


In My Head, In My Heart

by thegirlonpeetamellark



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 120,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlonpeetamellark/pseuds/thegirlonpeetamellark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No matter how bad your losses, it can be good again," the blond hair, blue eyed, boy wunderkind, tells the group. Yeah…right. What the hell does he know about grief? I'm only doing this to get my sister back. If he thinks he's going to magically "cure" me by the end of these sessions he's wrong. Dead wrong. Modern Day AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Primrose Everdeen!"

My hand tightens around Prim's smaller one as I stare at the woman who will be taking her away from me.

She stands in the doorway of her home, wearing too much make-up and clothes that are a sickening shade of candy pink. I stand there in a daze for a few moments, taking in her appearance, wondering how she could possibly be related to us and trying to decide whether her hair is actually a wig.

I'm broken from my train of thoughts when I feel Prim tugging on my hand, whispering my name. "Katniss..." she urges, looking up at me strangely.

I gather myself and offer the woman a weak smile. "Um, hi..." I mumble out.

"And you must be Katniss," she smiles at me. "It's so good to finally meet you both." I can't help noticing the odd way she talks, like an old movie star from those black and white films. "I've only seen pictures of you both, but that was years ago when you were much younger."

I can only nod my head in response, realizing that my grip on Prim's hand has gotten painfully tight since Effie Trinket opened her front door.

I'm not ready to let her go.

I'm not ready to say goodbye.

I kneel down next to my baby sister who, despite being 14 years old, looks no bigger than 10 with her huge backpack full of all her clothes and other possessions, dwarfing her and making her seem even smaller than usual.

I take both her hands in mind and swallow the lump already forming in my throat.

"It's going to be okay, Prim," I tell her, trying to convince myself as well. "It's only temporary. Me and you...we'll be together again soon. I promise."

Prim smiles that smile that makes my heart ache and throws her arms around me. "I know, Katniss," she whispers into my ear and then plants a kiss on my cheek before pulling back.

I get to my feet and turn to face Effie again, who is looking at us with a mixture of pity and understanding.

The anger inside me swirls and expands and suddenly I feel like I'm choking on it. It's overwhelming how much I want to scream and cry and take everything out on this woman standing in front of me. It's not fair, I know that, but focusing on my anger, rather then the graveyard of every other emotion - of the despair, grief, sadness, and loneliness - that haunts me day and night, is a lot easier.

"Now come on in, darling. Let's get you settled," Effie tells my sister. "I know this is going to be quite a change for you, but I think with the right attitude we can really enjoy one another's company!"

Prim, because she is Prim, gives the woman a soft, encouraging smile.

I, however, roll my eyes and don't make any attempt to hide it.

"Well, what a big, big, big day for the both of you," Effie tries to break the awkward tension after a moment. "I hope to make this as easy as possible for you and Prim, Katniss. I realize this can't be very easy."

I ignore her attempt at comforting us though because now that Prim is standing beside her in the doorway of her home and I'm out here on the front step by myself, the desperation and fear is rising in me like a tidal wave. I start fidgeting anxiously, a blind panic taking over.

"She likes it when you sing before bed and she's really good about helping with chores. She likes coffee ice cream, but you have to remind her to eat her vegetables." The words spill out of me in one long, deep breath.

"Katniss!" Prim exclaims, a slight blush creeping up on her cheeks. I'm sure she's not exactly thrilled with me acting like she's a baby who can't take care of herself, but right now all I can see is my baby sister, my baby sister who is being taken away from me.

"Thank you, Katniss, dear," Effie returns. "I promise I'll take good care of her."

Before I can do or say anything to stop it, the door to the house is being closed, with Effie and Prim disappearing inside.

I'm left standing out on the front step, never feeling as lost and alone as I do in this moment.

My father died in a car accident when I was 12 and in the 7 years since then I have felt a lot of anger and betrayal and frustration directed at my mother.

My mother, who was too weak to realize she still had two daughters to take care of. My mother, who could only focus on her own pain, rather than the starving faces of her children after it happened. My mother, who took the easy way out and swallowed one too many pain killers 6 weeks ago, joining my father and leaving us here alone.

I don't think I have ever been as angry with her as I am right now though. If she had only just changed the will and named me Prim's legal guardian when I turned 18, in the event of something like this, I wouldn't be here today. If she had only taken one moment to think about someone other than herself, I wouldn't be handing Prim over to our only living relative in West Virginia, a woman we never even had any contact with before today.

I feel guilty for thinking these awful thoughts about a woman who is dead.

But as I walk back to my car without Prim by my side the guilt fades away and the anger takes over.

I drive the 30 minutes back home before realizing I'm not going to have time to shower and change before this thing like I wanted to. When I find a spot in the Church parking lot I realize I have a few minutes to kill before it starts. I eat the granola bar and the apple I find in my backseat and try to work up the nerve to actually get out of my car and go inside.

This involves a lot of debating with myself over the pros and cons of sucking it up and getting it over with, or driving home right now and blowing the whole thing off. It's a futile argument, I know, because the only reason I have for doing this trumps any pathetic excuse I can come up with for not wanting to.

He already told me, if I want Prim back, if I want a chance in hell at being named her legal guardian I have to do this. My mind flashes back to his patronizing, sarcastic attitude the other day.

Listen sweetheart, I'm that little girl's social worker, and after looking through your file there is no way in hell I'm putting my ass on the line and vouching for a ticking time bomb like yourself to be named her legal guardian. The judge would laugh in my face. You want her back? Start taking care of yourself first and prove you're trying to get better.

I scoff at the notion that I need to "get better". I may be a twisted ball of misery and anguish - a complete, emotional fucking mess - but that doesn't mean I can't take care of my sister. I've been taking care of my sister since our father died.

My mother lived a sort of half life for years and even when she finally did come back to us she would still have her moments, times when I would come home to find her passed out from one too many glasses of wine or prescription pain killers. I knew since that time right after my father's death when we nearly died of starvation that I could never trust her again. And I didn't. I took charge of caring for Prim and I'd like to think I've been doing a pretty decent job of it ever since.

Everything was fine until our mother died and the will was read and suddenly people were telling me that Prim had to go live with some relative we had only vaguely heard of in passing conversation before. I still remember the feeling of lead in my stomach when they said Prim had to go live with my mother's second cousin, apparently the only member of her family who didn't completely shun her after she ran off to marry my father.

So here I am. Forced into this because I will do whatever it takes to get Prim back. And apparently whatever it takes includes suffering three times a week for an hour of this bull shit that I don't want or need.

It's 4:58pm when I finally force myself out of the car, walking across the parking lot like

I'm headed for my own execution. I keep my head down and avoid other people's eyes, already hating the heat creeping up the back of my neck, the embarrassment I feel to be here.

I walk up the front stairs of the Church and in the lobby I go right, following the directions I remember. There is a steep set of stairs and at the bottom a long hallway. At the end of the hallway there is a single door. I take a deep breath and force myself to go inside.

The room is bright. The kind of fake brightness that can only come from fluorescent lights. There are about 10 chairs set up in a circle and a table along the edge of the room with punch and cookies. People are lingering around, talking quietly among themselves, but everyone's eyes flicker towards me when I come in the room. I stare at the ground and then move off to the side.

I pull my phone out of my purse and pretend that I have many missed calls and messages to attend to. When I let my eyes peek up from my phone I inspect the people around the room. There are only two girls about my age, one with short brown hair that accentuates her sharp features, and another with long, dark hair who looks a little dazed and out of it. The other people in the room are all older, middle aged men and women who have that worn, tired look to them. You can see from the wrinkles on their faces and the looks in their eyes that they've lived a long and hard life.

Of course they have. That's why they're here, isn't it?

I'm starting to wonder when this damn thing is going to start, because the sooner it starts the sooner I can go home, when my eyes fall on someone I hadn't noticed before.

He looks about 4 or 5 years older than me. He has dirty blonde hair that has that perpetual messy look to it and ocean blue eyes. He's wearing jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clings to his broad shoulders.

He's not...unattractive.

His gaze travels across the room and he sees me looking. We make eye contact and for that brief moment before I look away my stomach flips and my heart beat picks up just a little. I chastise myself and try to shake off the feeling.

When I finally compose myself I hear him speak up and address the entire room.

"Okay, everyone, we're going to get started for today."

Everyone in the room starts to move to the circle of folding chairs, taking their seats.

However, all I can focus on is that this man, this boy, is apparently the person leading this thing, the person in charge. Isn't he a little young for this? How is he even qualified?

I hesitate, wondering if it would be too obvious if I slipped out of the room and just left right now. By the time I finish debating with myself whether to leave or not I'm the only person who hasn't taken a seat in the circle. The boy looks over at me with a questioning glance.

"Are you joining us?" He asks with a crooked grin.

I nod and slowly walk over to the circle, sinking down in the only seat left, directly across from him.

He clears his throat and glances around at us all. "Well, first off I just want to welcome everyone. Whether it's your first time with us or you're a regular, we're glad to see you here today. Just showing up takes a lot of courage and it's an important first step in the healing process."

I watch him address the group, noticing the comfort and ease he seems to have talking in front of people, the way the words flow out of him so naturally.

"My name is Peeta Mellark and I'm here anytime you need to talk."

When he says this he looks directly across the small circle and locks eyes with me. I look away uncomfortably, ignoring the way his gaze lingers on me a little longer than what could be considered normal.

"If you don't mind, maybe we could go around and if it's your first time here with us today you can just tell us your name and a little bit about yourself. Nothing too heavy, just a get to know you kind of thing..."

Fuck.

I stare at the ground, hating Peeta Mellark already. I don't want to talk. I want to sit in this uncomfortable chair for an hour in dead silence and count down the seconds until I can go home and watch bad reality TV.

When I peek up I see he's not even looking at me. Instead he's looking at the girl sitting to his left, the one about my age with a pixie hair cut that she pulls off because she has really high cheekbones and pouty lips.

I almost laugh when I see how annoyed she looks with the idea of sharing something about yourself.

"Fine, whatever...my name is Johanna Mason and I'm being forced to come here by a bunch of shrinks who think I need to open up or some shit," the girl explains casually. She shrugs when she finishes, and looks around the group before shooting us all a falsely, sweet smile.

I have to bite back the grin I feel coming on, enjoying the fact that at least someone else finds this as pointless as I do. The girl notices and fixes me with an appraising stare. I look away under her scrutiny, feeling like Johanna Mason isn't looking to befriend anyone here.

Peeta, to my surprise, just laughs at the girl's curt explanation. "Well Johanna, we're happy to have you here regardless."

"And I don't think I've seen you here before..." Peeta says to the other younger girl I noticed before, the one with long, dark hair.

"My name is Annie Cresta," the girl speaks so softly I barely catch her words. She stares at her lap, fidgeting with her hands; she looks like she's about to cry or scream or both.

"I don't...I..." she tries to start talking but the words die in her throat. It makes me uncomfortable how much she is struggling, how hard this is for her.

I hate this so much. I knew I would, but this is only confirming it for me. I do not want to sit in this room with a bunch of strangers and see people at their worse. Seeing people deal with their shit only reminds me of my shit and how I have so successfully avoided dealing with it for so long, and I'm not about to go and open that can of worms.

"It's okay, Annie," Peeta says in a soft voice. "We're glad you came."

He looks away from her and directly across the circle at me.

I swallow thickly, finding myself unable to look away from his blue eyes. He raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting to see if I'm going to speak up.

"My name is Katniss Everdeen," I say, willing my voice not to shake. I hesitate, trying to sort out all the thoughts in my head. There's a million things I could say, but the truth is I don't want to say anything at all. The truth. The thought floats to the forefront of my mind and I blurt out the next words. "And I really don't want to be here."

A couple of people chuckle quietly, but my eyes stay locked on Peeta Mellark. He holds my gaze for what feels like a long time. The intensity with which he looks at me is intimidating. It makes me feel like he's looking right through me.

"Well, Katniss..." he finally says. "I appreciate your honesty." There is just the slightest hint of a smile on his face, the corners of his mouth tilted upward. "Now, does anyone want to start us off today?" He asks the group.

To my surprise, the older members of the group, who are apparently regulars here, start talking, opening up without hesitation. I'm a little shocked at first, trying to get used to hearing the most personal, intimate, and heart wrenching stories from these people that I don't even know.

I look around the room at the faces of these strangers. I briefly imagine telling them my deepest, darkest secrets. I imagine telling them the things that I still have trouble talking about out loud even with the people who know me best.

Just the thought makes me shudder.

After every story it gets harder and harder to listen. I don't want to hear how these people have suffered just as much, if not more, than me. It makes me feel more awful than usual and forces me to confront the fact that they're a lot stronger and just better than I'll ever be.

A middle aged woman talks about her son who was killed by a drunk driver. She says that she was finally able to go into his bedroom the other day, that she's started to go through his things. She breaks down crying not a minute later and someone offers her a box of tissues.

An older man talks about how he lost his wife of 40 years to cancer, how the diagnosis came out of nowhere and by that time she was already at stage 4. A haggard looking woman explains that, the guilt she feels for leaving the gate to the pool in her backyard open eats away at her day and night, that she knows it is her fault her child is no longer here.

It continues like this for the first 45 minutes or so of the session, I know this because I keep checking the clock on the wall behind Peeta's head, waiting until it strikes 6:00pm and I'm free to go.

I'm quiet the entire time, silently observing and listening. It's not exactly like I thought it would be I guess. Mainly, people just go around talking about whatever they want. Peeta listens and then asks questions, trying to get them to expound on what they're saying, about how they feel.

When there is about 10 minutes left Peeta thanks everyone for sharing. "It takes a lot of strength to be able to come here today and work through your grief. Pain like this is most difficult thing you'll ever have to face. And just the fact you're attempting to do something about it, that you want to get better, is a huge step."

I suddenly feel lighter because it's almost time to leave. I need to get out of here. I don't need to hear about how much these people have suffered. I've suffered enough myself. And I definitely don't need to hear about how hard life is and how brave we all are to keep going from Peeta Mellark.

I notice him looking at me again. "Before we go today I want to leave you all with this one thought to really reflect on before our next session," Peeta begins. "No matter how bad your losses, it can be good again," the blond hair, blue eyed, boy wunderkind tells the group.

Yeah...right. What the hell does he know about grief? I can see it perfectly, rich kid who decided to major in psychology because he likes trying to figure out why people are the way they are. Nothing but textbooks and lectures to inform his worldview.

I'm only doing this to get my sister back and I decide right then and there that if Peeta Mellark thinks he's going to magically "cure" me by the end of these sessions, he's wrong. Dead wrong.

There must be something in my expression, a look on my face that tells him what complete and utter bullshit I find this to be, because he looks at me questioningly.

"Do you have anything to add, Katniss?"

Against my better judgment I find myself responding. "I'm just not a big believer in the whole 'the sun will come out tomorrow' attitude. Life is a lot more complicated than that." I tell him bluntly.

From the corner of my eyes I feel every member in the group looking at me carefully.

Some are put off by my harshness, some look like they agree, but don't want to be too obvious about it. Every one looks back and forth between Peeta and I for a moment, waiting for him to respond.

He stares at me for a while, almost like he's trying to figure me out. His gaze makes me uncomfortable. I don't like it when he looks at me like that. Finally, one corner of his mouth turns up in a small smile. "You're right. It is." He finally answers.

I'm caught off guard by his answer. I open my mouth to reply and find I have nothing to say.

"See you guys next time," he announces to the group, effectively dismissing everyone.

When I get home I heat up a frozen meal and then sit down on my couch in front of the TV to eat. I try and lose myself in the mindless entertainment rather than focusing on how the small, two bedroom apartment I shared with my mother and Prim for the past 7 years now feels way too big without either one of them here anymore.

I start to get antsy, constantly checking the clock. Where is he?

After everything that's happened today, saying goodbye to Prim, suffering through that bullshit grief counseling, Peeta Mellark...

I know I can't handle being on my own tonight.

The moment I start to contemplate finding a way to take the edge off, something to help me forget about the anxiety and stress and the dark cloud of thoughts whirling around in my head, I hear him coming down the hallway.

I jump off the couch and rush to the front door, opening it before he even has a chance to knock.

I throw my arms around his neck and rest my head against his shoulder.

"Hey Catnip," he says, rubbing his hands up and down my back. I can hear the concern in his voice. "You okay? How'd it go today?"

Instead of answering I pull back and press my lips to his. It has the desired effect. I focus on the warmth of his lips and the way he sighs into the kiss. It's a good distraction for the moment. And he's always saying how I'm not affectionate enough.

But when I pull back the weight of it all finally hits me.

Prim's gone.

I bury my head in his shirt and start to cry. Tears silently fall down my cheeks until they dissolve into sobs that wrack my whole body. He throws his stuff on the floor and then leans down and picks me up off my feet. He uses his foot to close the front door and then brings me over to the couch. He pulls me against him and softly strokes my hair until I've calmed down.

"It's going to be okay, you know," he breaks the silence after a while. "I promise."

They're empty words that don't mean much, but I know he's just trying to comfort me.

I nod my head in response.

He asks me about the grief counseling, but I don't really want to talk about that either.

He doesn't push me for answers and I'm grateful.

When he moves to get up off the couch I grab his hand. "Gale...thank you."

He smiles at me and leans back to kiss my forehead. Then he disappears into the kitchen to get something to eat.

I realize now how thankful I am for his presence in my life. We've been best friends since my mother, Prim, and I moved into this apartment after my father's death. He was the older boy down the hall, fatherless like me and with younger siblings to look after too. We spent all our time together, practically inseparable. He was my refuge from the real world, from facing the reality that my father was gone and my mother had become worthless.

We were best friends and I wanted it to stay that way, but about a year ago he made it clear he wanted more. At first I didn't want to ruin what we had. I was perfectly fine with us just being friends. But Gale is stubborn like me and when he wants something it isn't so easy for him to just let it go. He pushed the issue until I realized if I kept refusing him it could mean losing him as a friend forever.

The idea itself was so unthinkable to me that eventually I relented and we've been dating ever since. Sometimes it feels like I made the right decision. Gale knows me better than anyone. He's been by my side for as long as I can remember, helping me survive after the car accident that took my father's life.

There are times though when I realize my initial reluctance about us being together was warranted. We are so much alike, headstrong, with short fuses and cynical world views. We are both so full of anger that our fathers are gone, leaving us here alone to suffer.

Together, it is a lot of fire. And too much fire isn't a good thing.

But tonight, with Prim gone and the memories of my first grief counseling session still fresh in my mind, I'm especially grateful to have him by my side.

He returns to the couch with his dinner and we sit in comfortable silence for the rest of the night as he eats and I flip through the channels. When I can't stop yawning I turn off the TV and grab his hand, leading him to my room. He sleeps over more often than not since he lives only just down the hall, but now with Prim gone I know I'm going to be asking him to stay a lot more.

He steps out of his jeans and slides into bed while I disappear into the bathroom to change and brush my teeth. When I return to bed he's sitting up, waiting for me.

I get under the covers and lean over to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

"Good night," I whisper, lying down on my side and facing away from him.

I close my eyes, ready for sleep, waiting for this day to be over. But then I feel him curl around my body, his chest pressing against my back, his arm snaking under my own. He starts planting kisses along the curve of my shoulder.

After everything that has happened today, being with him like this is the very last thing on my mind. But then his hands start to wander, slipping under my shirt, squeezing my breasts, inching their way down to my underwear, rubbing me over the fabric. Despite myself, I feel my body start to respond and I reason that this might not be such a bad distraction after all.

I tilt my head back to kiss him and in a second he moves over me, pushing his tongue into my mouth. He grunts and grinds himself against me. I feel his length pressing against my inner thigh. I pull back, breathless, "Gale..." I warn, not wanting him to get carried away.

"Come on, Catnip," he breathes against my mouth.

I feel like we've had this argument a million times. We've never had sex and as much as I realize that if anyone should be my first, it should be Gale, that doesn't stop me from just not wanting to do it. I can't really explain it other than the idea of being with someone like that terrifies me.

It would mean letting walls down that I have done just a fantastically, wonderful job of building up over the past several years. It would mean laying myself bare, opening up the twisted mess that is my soul and allowing it to be completely vulnerable. It's not that I don't care about Gale enough to let him in, but the things that have happened to me in the past have left scars too deep to be healed. I'm not about to go around and leave them bare and uncovered, ready to get hurt again.

His hand trails down my side as he continues kissing me, sucking on bottom lip.

Then he starts tugging on my underwear, trying to pull it down my legs.

I put my hands on his chest and push him away. "Gale, no!"

He rolls off of me and doesn't do a very good job at hiding his annoyance. He's usually a lot more tactful about it. "Fine," he says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom.

I wince when the bathroom door slams behind him.

I lay in bed, wide awake, feeling guilty and confused. I know he must be getting tired of waiting for me, but I'm too emotionally fucked up to be able to handle something like sex.

Not to mention losing Prim today has made everything worse.

He could have also been a little nicer about it. Usually I offer to take care of him and make sure he finishes when I halt any of his advances.

But by the sound of his grunts and groans coming from the bathroom I can tell he wasn't in the mood for a pity hand job tonight.

I roll onto my side and close my eyes. As I drift off into that space between consciousness and sleep a blur of images float through my mind, Prim being taken away by a woman with too much make-up, the cries of parents who've lost their children, Gale pressing his hardness against me, making his intentions clear. In those last moments when I'm not yet asleep, but not still awake, another image, one I can't even begin to make sense of appears behind my eyelids.

Blonde hair and blue eyes are the last thing I remember before I fall into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

I like getting to the group sessions early.

I like the solitude and silence of the empty room in the Church basement. I like arranging the chairs in a circle and setting up the cookies and punch for the day’s session. It helps me relax and focus, and really get in the right frame of mind for grief counseling. I think about what I want to say for that particular day and what things I want to focus on to try and help people make progress.

I look forward to that time of being alone every day, so when I show up at the Church 30 minutes before the session is scheduled to begin, I’m taken off guard by the presence of someone else already in the room.

When I open the door to the room there are a couple of things that throw me.

The first is that it’s her. The girl with long dark hair, olive skin and grey eyes. Katniss. 

The second is that she’s singing.

I stop, frozen in the doorway, paralyzed by the angelic sound of her voice.

Her purse is slung over her shoulder and her back is to me. She is on the opposite side of the room, walking along the wall lined with artwork. She has headphones on and is holding what looks like a first generation iPod, the big kind that they probably stopped making a long time ago. 

I listen as she sings, my heart contracting at the prettiest sound I think I’ve ever heard.

“Deep in the meadow.....under the willow....a bed of grass, a soft green pillow...lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes....and when again they open, the sun will rise.”

When she stops she keeps walking on the far side of the room, quietly humming to herself. I feel like I’ve done something wrong, eavesdropped on a moment that was supposed to be private, where she clearly thought she was alone. I wait a long moment and then move into the room, clearing my throat and making myself heard.

I put down the bag of food and drinks on the usual table and then turn to face her.

She takes the headphones out of her ears and then wraps the cord around her iPod and puts it in her purse. When she looks over at me I offer her a small smile, but she quickly looks away.

“You’re here early,” I try and joke, smiling at her to try and make her feel a little more at ease.

She simply shrugs in response and keeps her gaze diverted from my own. But when I turn to start setting up the table with refreshments I think I hear her mutter, ‘didn’t have anywhere else to be’.

When I’m finished I want to go over and talk to her, but by the way she has returned her attention to studying the room’s decor, it’s clear she’s not interested. I arrange the chairs in the usual circle and then pull out my notepad, going over my plans for the day. It’s not long before other members of the group begin showing up, greeting me warmly and treating themselves to the table of punch and cookies. 

As the session starts I find myself constantly glancing over at her.

It’s been a week and a half since she came to her first session and she hasn’t missed a single one since. She is here three times a week before the session starts and then the first one to leave, practically running to the door when it’s over. Other than that first day, when she told us her name, how she didn’t want to be here, and that she didn’t believe in the theory that ‘the sun will come out tomorrow’, she hasn’t said a single word. She has been completely silent, fidgeting in the plastic folding chair and letting her eyes wander around the room. I can never figure out if she is actually listening to what other people are saying or if she is just completely zoned out.

Sometimes she just sits and stares at her hands in her lap, other times she looks like she’s bored, glancing around the room and counting down the seconds until she can leave. There are times though when I see her watching the other members of the group as they share. It’s those moments that her eyes get cold and her mouth sets in a straight line and she becomes stoned face, looking like she is trying to shut down any emotions that might be raging inside her.

Jesus, stalker much.

I shake my head and scold myself for being so obsessed with this girl. I try and reason that it is my job to help her, but I know my fascination with her is going a little beyond my normal relationship with my group members. 

I try and clear my head, willing myself to focus on Sae’s story about her granddaughter’s time in the hospital, battling Leukemia. It takes about two seconds before I glance over at Katniss again. She exhales a big breath of air upwards, scattering the pieces of hair that have fallen in her face. She leans back in the chair and places her hands flat on her thighs, moving them from high up her legs near her hips, down the rough surface of her jeans to her knees.

Someone clears their throat and I nearly jump out of my seat, realizing that Sae finished talking and they are all waiting on me. 

“Thanks Sae,” I tell the older woman with grey hair. “I think it’s good to remember how brave our loved ones were and how hard they fought when we lose them to cancer or whatever illness. But I think it’s just as important to remember them for who they were without that horrible disease. Without the hospital and the chemo treatments and the hair loss and nauseas....”

I trail off, my words getting stuck in my throat. I swallow the sudden emotion that talking about cancer causes in me and try to refocus.

“I think you should try to focus on the little girl who was healthy, who you walked to the park with everyday after school and who ate junk food and could run around without anything holding her back. Find pictures from that time, get a notebook and write down all your memories....remembering those times probably won’t make her absence hurt any less, but I think it’ll make you feel better to remember her when she was happy and healthy instead of in a hospital bed.”

Sae smile and nods at me, tears escaping the corner of her eyes as someone hands her a tissue.

I check the time on my watch and then glance around the room, trying to decide where I want to go next. 

When I look over at Katniss I notice she is looking at me intensely, her eyes narrowed, her brows pinched together in concentration. She looks like she is studying me, trying to figure me out. I try not to flinch under her gaze.

“So, um, I was thinking...maybe we can hear a little bit from our newest members, we haven’t really gotten a chance to hear your stories yet...”

I trail off as I look over at Katniss. The inquisitive look immediately disappears and she crosses her arms in front of her chest, her face becoming stoic as she shoots me an angry glare. I raise my eyebrows at her expectantly, even though I already know it’s a lost cause.

She doesn’t even flinch.

I sigh and look over at Johanna Mason sitting to my right. She wears a look similar to Katniss’, though she looks more amused at the idea than anything. I can practically hear her inner dialogue: no fucking way, buddy.

With one last ditch effort I find Annie Cresta sitting two seats besides me. She looks anxious, playing with her hands and chewing on her bottom lip. She looks like she’s having an internal battle with herself.

“Annie....” I say gently as the dark hair girl glances up at me timidly.

“We’d love to hear from you. This is a completely safe environment. We’re all here to support you.”

To my utter surprise, after a moment of hesitation, Annie starts talking. It takes her a while and she practically whispers the words, making everyone strain forward to hear her, but once she starts it all comes out like the dam has been broken.

My stomach turns as I listen to the poor girl’s story, growing up with an abusive mother and having to take care of her younger brother. She talks about how she feels like she’s always lived her life in a constant state of worry and fear - fear of her mother and worrying about her younger brother. She talks about the weight of guilt she feels that her brother, a diagnosed bipolar schizophrenic, eventually took his own life. She breaks down in tears by the end and Sae is the first one to offer her a hug, while others offer words of encouragement and provide plenty of tissues. 

At the end of the session I’m emotionally drained and thankful that the day is nearly over. I shake hands and talk to people as the room slowly empties out. When I think I’m finally alone I go over to the refreshment table and start to pack away whatever wasn’t eaten. 

I jump when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I turn around and Katniss is standing there holding a piece of paper.

“I was wondering if you can sign this,” she says, not meeting my eyes. 

I take the paper from her and stare at it in confusion. 

“It just says that I’ve been showing up to every session,” she clarifies. “I need it for something...”

She trails off and I raise my eyes to look at her, curious as to what she needs it for.

“So...you’re just here as a means to an end?” I question. She narrows her eyes and shoots daggers at me.

“I’m just saying...” I try and explain. “You haven’t exactly been participating. Should I write that down?”

Her eyes flash dangerously and she goes to grab the paper back from me. I pull it away and hold it out of her reach. “Fine, I’ll sign it,” I relent. 

I take a pen from my back pocket and lean down on the refreshment table and scribble down my name.

I hand it back to her and she snatches it away, muttering a barely audible ‘thanks’ before she turns and leaves.

X

When I get to the hospital I find a parking spot and then just sit in my car for a long time. 

I realize that I’ve started to dread coming here. It’s not because I don’t care about my dad, I love him more than anyone in this world, he’s all I have. It’s just that coming here feels like this huge weight on my chest. Coming here makes me fear what’s to come, it makes me feel guilty because I wish I didn’t have to be here, and makes me realize that my dad’s condition is slowly deteriorating. 

My dad was diagnosed with stage 3 liver cancer 6 months ago and has been undergoing chemo ever since. He has suffered through it all, the nauseas, the fatigue, the hair loss, but he has never given up, his spirits have never wavered. 

That kind of attitude, the ability to see the worst the world has to offer and suffer through it, and not give up is something that amazes me every day. I’m thankful more than anything that my dad has instilled that kind of world view in me since I was very young. People can think it’s naive or dumb to always be optimistic, to focus on the good rather than the grim reality of your current circumstances, but I don’t know how to live any other way. I don’t know how anyone else can live any other way.

If my father hadn’t raised me this way I wouldn’t be here today. I wouldn’t be working as a grief counselor. I wouldn’t have grown up to be relatively okay, despite having an abusive mother. I wouldn’t have survived losing my two older brothers.

When my father met my mother she already had two children from a previous marriage. They got married and had me and growing up I idolized my older brothers, amazed at how much bigger and stronger they were, awed by all the things they could do that I couldn’t.

When I was 5 my mother began beating me. She was angry and cold and took her aggression out on me and my brothers. I always got the worst of it, but my brothers took their fair share of beatings whenever they tried to stand up to her and protect me. It happened for a while without my dad noticing. His bakery was just getting off the ground and he spent a lot of time at work. When he first started to noticed the bruises on my body he asked my mother, who lied and blamed it on my clumsiness. I knew from the look in her eyes that if I told him the truth I would suffer the consequences.

Eventually my father realized what was happening on his own and was horrified. He left her immediately, freeing me from her reign of terror over my body and mind, but since my brothers weren’t legally his children there was nothing he could do to save them. He reported my mother to child services, but by then it was too late. When he left her my mother went berserk and took it out on my brothers, beating them within an inch of their life. Their injuries were so severe they eventually succumbed to the trauma and passed away in the ICU unit, my father and I by their side, and my mother locked up, where she’s been ever since.

The anger and guilt, the agony of children abused so horrifically they lost their lives, is something my father and I have carried around with us ever since. It’s not easy to try and move on from something like that, to attempt to continue living a normal life, despite enduring all that awfulness. It was my father’s strength, his determination to keep going, that allowed us to reach a point where we could continue living, not completely free of the pain from the past, but determined not to let it destroy our future.

As I ride the elevator up to the fifth floor of the hospital I try and take a deep, calming breath. I always have to prepare myself before going in there, before seeing my dad looking weak and helpless, confined to his bed, with his thinning hair and slightly yellowing skin. 

I step off the elevator and go right, passing the nurse’s station and offering the familiar women a smile and a wave. I make another right down the hallway that holds my father’s room and stop dead in my tracks, momentarily stunned at the sight of the person standing in front of me.

“Well, isn’t this just a lovely little reunion,” she says sarcastically.

“Johanna....umm, hi, how are you?” I ask, trying to regain my bearings. I feel bad, like it’s an invasion of her privacy. She hasn’t shared in the group yet, and now without really meaning to, I’ve stumbled upon some of the skeletons she has been hiding in her closet.

She narrows her eyes at me and looks at me like I’m the stupidest person in the world.

“I’m great, Peeta! I’m at a fucking hospital, how the hell do you think I am?”

I rub the back of my neck, staring at the ground. “Sorry, I just...”

She lets out a deep breath and then crosses her arms in front of her chest. After a moment she speaks up again, her tone less harsh. “I’m here visiting someone. And I’m guessing you’re doing the same?”

I nod my head in confirmation. 

She pauses, surveying me closely. Then she turns and gestures with her head behind her. “Come here,” she says, walking down the hall and stopping at a doorway on the right, only a few rooms down from my dad.

“I want you to meet my sister.”

I peek in the room and see a girl that looks strikingly similar to Johanna, they both have the same short brown hair and fair complexion. She is hooked up to tubes everywhere, a machine is breathing for her, she’s on life support.

“Brain damage,” Johanna answers my silent question. 

I swallow thickly, the weight of it all really hitting me. It’s one thing to sit in a Church’s basement every week and hear stories about how people have suffered and lost their loved ones, but to actually see it up close and personal is a completely different experience.

“I’m sorry,” I croak out after a while. I push down the emotion threatening to overwhelm me.

She shakes her head, smiling sadly as tears start to fall from the corner of her eyes. 

“You want to know the worst part?” She asks me, not meeting my eyes. “She’s the only person left I love. And I’m too selfish to just let her go, pull the plug.”

“Your parents?” I ask before I can stop myself.

She meets my eyes, a hard, steely resolve behind them. “The only person left,” she says again.

After that there’s not much else either of us can say.

X

“Oh, cheese buns!”

I swat my roommate’s hand away before he can grab the buns I just pulled from the oven.

“They’re not for you, Finnick!”

“Oh, come on man, I’m starving. And it’s been ages since you baked anything around here. I’m dying for some home cooking.”

“Sorry, man. These are for my grief counseling session.” I don’t mention the fact that I actually baked them with one person in mine. That I actually baked them for a certain dark hair, grey eyed girl that looks like she could use a little cheering up.

“No fair, what have those people done to deserve it? Besides suffering horribly and losing people they love?” Finnick jokes.

I crack a smile.

“But seriously man, you got to start pulling your weight around here more. I expect freshly baked treats when I come home from work,” Finnick explains, leaning agains the kitchen counter as I start to wrap the cheese buns in aluminum foil. 

“And why exactly would I do that?” I ask my roommate, glad he’s not asking any more questions about why exactly I’m doing this. I almost feel a little foolish, like this little gesture is so silly and naive that they are - she is - going to just laugh in my face. I know cheese buns can’t fix anything, but I’m just hoping it makes a little bit of a difference, even if for only a little while.

“I don’t know...you already clean and do all the shopping and make sure the bills get paid on time. You’re lulling me into a false sense of security, of being taken care of. So I think you just need to go all out and start baking all the time too. It just makes sense.”

“Oh yeah, makes total sense,” I agree sarcastically.

When I get to the Church I’m surprised that Katniss isn’t there early like she normally is. I hand out the cheese buns to the rest of the group until there are only two left which I hold onto, saving them to give to her later. Everyone thanks me profusely and I think maybe it wasn’t such a dumb idea after all. 

We start the session and Katniss rushes in 5 minutes later, slightly out of breath, her face flushed, slipping quietly into the one empty seat. She looks over at me and then quickly looks away. 

The session passes as usual. The regulars talk freely and openly, tissues are passed around at the appropriate times, I offer my two cents when needed. A couple of things are different about today though. The first is that, although she still doesn’t share any personal details, Johanna Mason looks to be actively engaged in the discussion. She is actually listening, she doesn’t wear that annoyed look anymore, and she even responds to what some people have to say, discussing their situation and always keeping the conversation focused on the others rather than herself. I decide it’s better than nothing.

The second is that Annie Cresta speaks up again to share without even being asked. She talks about how she has to work everyday to fight off the guilt that plagues her over how her brother’s life ended. She says it helps to constantly tell herself that it wasn’t her fault, that she did as much as she could, even if she doesn’t truly believe herself all the time. 

I feel encouraged by the small improvements of the newest members of the group. I know things don’t change overnight and just seeing them making small steps in the right direction gives me hope they’ll continue to make progress. 

My gaze wanders over to Katniss like it seems to more often than not. She, however, does not seem to be making any great strides today. She is seated quietly in her chair as usual, a completely vacant expression on her face. Her eyes are unfocused like she’s in a daze. I know she’s not listening because I can almost see the wheels turning in her head. She might as well be a million miles away, whatever she is thinking about has her completely disengaged from this moment.

Finally, the session ends and I shake hands and say goodbye with the regulars. In between sharing quick words with them, my eyes dart over to Katniss who is searching through her purse for something. I feel a tide of anxiousness rising in me, scared for a moment that she is going to leave without giving me a chance to talk to her.

I interrupt Sae for a moment. “Katniss...” I call over to her. She snaps her head up to look at me in surprise. “Do you mind staying for a moment? I wanted to talk to you...”

She stares back at me for a long moment, fear and uncertainty tracing her features. She eventually nods her head in agreement. I finish up with everyone else and usher them to the door, saying goodbye and waiting until the room has completely cleared out before I turn back to face Katniss.

She is holding her car keys in her hand, watching me carefully like I’m about to attack. 

I give her a small smile, hoping to put her a little more at ease, but she won’t even meet my eyes.

“I uh...I have something for you,” I say, breaking the silence and moving over to the side of the room where I left the bag with the remaining cheese buns. 

I grab the bag and return to her. 

“Thought you were going to lecture me for not participating...” she mumbles.

I take a deep breath. “I’m not going to push you Katniss. You have to make the choice to start talking on your own.”

She locks eyes with me and for once neither one of us look away. I feel that thing again. That response inside me, my stomach clenching and my heart beat speeding up, whenever I look into those grey eyes.

I look away quickly, feeling like if I keep looking at her any longer I’ll do something stupid. 

I hand her the bag of cheese buns. “I uh...made these for you...thought you’d like them....” I trail off awkwardly. I mentally chastise myself for sounding so stupid.

She grabs the bag hesitantly, looking like I’m handing her a bomb.

She opens the bag and looks inside, staring at it for a long time.

“They’re just cheese buns,” I begin, about to tell her how my dad used to have a bakery.

Her head shoots up and she looks at me, her eyes flashing angrily.

She takes the bag and shoves it back towards me, pushing it against my chest so I stumble back a little.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” she spits out, moving towards me, “but I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.” She scowls at me, looking like I’ve just insulted her in the worst possible way.

“Katniss, what are you talking about?” I try and reason with her. “I was just trying to be nice.”

She scoffs, like the idea of anyone ‘just being nice’ is the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard.

She inches forward so barely a few feet separate us. Her eyes never waver from my own and despite her anger I can’t help but feeling a little flustered because of how close she is to me.

She takes a deep breath and when she speaks again there is less anger behind her words. Instead, I hear the vulnerability in her voice.

“I’m not some charity case, Peeta.”

I open my mouth to respond, but find I can’t even fathom how to respond to that.

She turns and leaves, ignoring when I call her name, trying to get her to stop.

X

“Shots!”

When we walk into the familiar bar I notice it’s more crowded than usual. Finnick navigates his way through the mass of people and somehow finds us an empty table. 

He exclaims happily when our normal waitress, a redhead that adores his constant flirtatious comments, delivers us two shots of whiskey.

“We’re doing shots?” I ask, a little disheartened. I’m not a huge drinker, but I don’t mind getting hammered once in a while. It just those moments before I’m actually full on drunk that I never enjoy, the actual drinking of hard alcohol that burns my throat as it goes down and leaves a nasty feeling in my mouth.

“Oh, don’t be such a fucking pussy!” Finnick admonishes me after tossing back his shot in one try and slamming it on the table. “I don’t want to sit around all night watching you babysit a beer. I want to see you let loose for a change. You’ve been so god damn uptight lately.”

I sigh, knowing that’s he’s right. It feels like there’s been a build up of stress and pressure the past few weeks. Between my almost daily trips to the hospital and grief counseling it just feels like I’ve been holding in a lot of tension lately. Chemo is really starting to take it’s toll on my dad and the addition of the three new members of the group have affected me more than usual. 

Something about these girls, one in particular, has thrown me for a loop. I always try and stay professional, not getting too emotionally invested in any one person, while still providing the appropriate amount of support. The issues we deal with are so sensitive that if I let myself get too involved in any one person’s problems the sheer weight of that kind of emotional turmoil would start to drag me down. I can’t really explain it, but there’s something about Annie and Johanna...and Katniss especially, if I’m being honest with myself....that makes me feel like I already know them. I’m drawn to them, wanting to help them get better, help them get through the burden of their pasts, more than any of the other people I’ve worked with before.

I brace myself and then bring the shot to my mouth tilting it back and letting it slide down my throat. I slam it down on the table. Finnick slaps me on the back and shouts ‘that a boy!’ and then I decide that what I need tonight is to just forget about work and get very drunk. 

“Another!” I demand and Finnick shoots me an approving grin.

“Okay, but you’re buying,” he says, calling over our waitress.

My eyes search the bar and through the mass of people the crowd splits and reveals a familiar face. “Delly!” I call over to the blonde girl, waving her to our table. She meets my eyes and smiles and has to work to maneuver through the crowd a bit more.

Finnick and I have known Delly since college and the three of us have always been really close. She’s so easy going and likable, a complete guy’s girl. As she approaches the table my eyes widen in recognition at the familiar face tagging along behind her.

“Hey guys!” Delly says cheerfully as she gets to our table. “I want you to meet my friend Annie. She’s the new first grade teacher at my school. I was so excited to have someone my age on the faculty, you have no idea.”

Annie and I lock eyes and for a moment, neither one of us knowing what to do. I can see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes, wondering if I’m going to give her away. I never acknowledge the people I work with in counseling outside of our sessions unless they acknowledge me first out of respect for their privacy. 

Luckily, Annie relents and gives me a soft smile. “Yeah, I already know Peeta,” she says quietly, dropping her gaze and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Really?” Delly asks, clearly perplexed.

“Yeah, we get our nails done at the same place,” I joke and this seems to put Annie at ease. Thankfully Delly drops the subject and simply shrugs it off. 

I look over at Finn who hasn’t said a word. It’s the most bizarre thing in the world, but for probably the first time since I’ve known him, he isn’t running his mouth around a pretty girl that he’s just met. Instead he’s just staring at Annie like he’s in a daze. I elbow him not so subtly and he seems to snap out of his stupor. 

“Hi, I’m Finnick,” he says and they shake hands. 

Our waitress brings over our shots and the girls order their own mixed drinks. After about our fourth shot something occurs to me.

“Hey, how the hell are we getting home?” I ask Finnick, who seems to have relaxed a little. He keeps glancing over at Annie and is wearing the biggest shit eating grin I’ve ever seen. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “You can take a cab. I’ll go home with her,” he replies, hooking a thumb in Annie’s direction.

She narrows her eyes at him and shakes her head.

“I don’t think so,” she replies calmly. 

“Oh, come on,” Finnick protests. “One night and I promise to have you begging for more,” he says suggestively, raising his eyebrows at her. Clearly the alcohol is starting to loosen his tongue. He’s always forward, but when he drinks there are really no limits.

Annie shakes her head in disgust.

“I don’t snore,” he adds, his eyes just starting to glaze over from lust and alcohol. “And I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.” 

She leans down and takes a sip of her drink which is barely half finished. She meets his eyes for a long moment before speaking. “So does that thing usually work?” She asks.

“What thing?” Finnick replies, confused.

“That thing you’re doing. That overly flirtatious, coming on really strong, having no shame thing. You know, that thing where you don’t even try and pretend you’re interested in anything other than getting in my pants.” she explains calmly as Finnick’s face falls. “Does it usually work with other girls?” She asks, appearing genuinely curious about the answer.

Delly and I immediately burst out laughing as Finnick struggles to form a response.

When we finally compose ourselves my stomach hurts and Finnick is trying to put his ego back together. I’ve never seen a girl respond to Finnick like that, they’re usually falling at his feet, and it’s really refreshing to see someone put him in his place.

As the night wears on everyone starts to loosen up a little. I lose track of how many shots I’ve had and the four of us eventually migrate over to the small dance floor where they’re pop songs and old classics, instead of that techno crap they usually play in clubs. Finnick seems to have recovered from the earlier blow to his pride and is now relaxed and acting like his normal self, instead of the persona he adopts around pretty girls. 

At one point Annie, Delly, Finnick and I are all in a small circle on the dance floor, jumping up and down and screaming at the top of our lungs, “Youuuuuu shook me allllllll night loooong!!!!” 

I feel someone tap me on the shoulder and I turn around.

“Hey you.”

I feel two hands snake around my waist as I try to put a name to the face. Katie. “Hey!” I try and greet her enthusiastically. I met her at the gym and we’ve run into each other at this bar a couple of times. She’s pretty and nice and has made it very clear she’s interested in hooking up. I’ve never really been interested in her that way though because she doesn’t exactly do it for me.

Tonight, however, there is enough alcohol in my system not really care about any of that. I realize as she pulls me away from my friends and down the hallway leading to the restrooms that it’s been way too long since I’ve found release without using my own hand.

She pushes me up against the wall and shoves her tongue in my mouth. It’s sloppy and hasty, but at the moment it’s exactly what I need. I’m just drunk enough to not care about who I’m doing this with, but not too drunk to keep things from...working properly. 

She runs her hand down to my pants and cups the bulge in my jeans. I push into her hand. She grins and pulls me into the bathroom. She locks the door and then pushes me against the wall, kissing me as I tangle my fingers in her hair. Her lips move to my neck and she breathes against my skin, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

Before I can process anything else I feel her undo the button and zipper of my jeans. She slides down to the ground on her knees. When she releases me from my boxers she has to use her hand for a moment to get me fully hard.

I close my eyes and try and focus on sensation, pushing away reality. I try and ignore the fact I could care less about this girl. I’m not sure whether it’s the alcohol or the fact I’m not really attracted to her that’s making it difficult to stay hard.

Eventually I relax back against the wall as her lips slide over me. She has the technique of a girl who is well practiced in the art of making a man feel good. After a while though I realize I’m not really getting close and I need to use my imagination to finish. I focus on the feel of her hot mouth around me and as her tongue slides over my tip an image pops into my head that instantly makes my hips jerk forward.

It’s the alcohol, I realize, that’s letting my subconscious take over and in the moment I don’t question it. I just go with it, hoping it will help me come. I picture her olive skin and dark hair that she always wears in a braid. I think about her grey eyes and her slender frame. I grab onto that image, connecting it to the feel of the mouth around me now, pretending that it’s her whose lips are wrapped around me. 

I push myself into her mouth and tangle my hands in her hair, eventually finding my release. 

As I come down from my high, pulling my clothes back together, the reality of the moment comes crashing down on me all at once. I thank Katie and we share a few awkward kisses before she drags me back out to the dance floor. Finnick shoots me an amused smirk when I make my reappearance and Delly just shakes her head, biting back a laugh.

I dance with Katie for a little while longer and before she leaves with her group of friends she programs her number into my cell, asking me to call her. They’ve just announced last call as Finnick, Delly, Annie and I shuffle out of the bar. We help the girls grab a cab and then Finnick and I wait to find our own. 

On the way home I think about what happened, how I thought about Katniss. My mind is still fuzzy from the alcohol, but I can’t help but feeling guilty. I feel bad for thinking about her that way, like she’s nothing more than someone I used to get off. I wonder how she’s managed to get under my skin so much in such a short amount of time. There’s something about her that is hard to explain. Inexplicably I find myself drawn to her, but I know there’s no point in even entertaining that idea. 

I have no business thinking about her that way. I’m working with her in grief counseling and that means she is completely off limits.

Completely.


	3. Chapter 3

The door to his office is open and I stand awkwardly at the doorway, my hand hovering over the nameplate that reads “Haymitch Abernathy”.

I hesitate before knocking, noticing him in the far corner of the room, his back facing me. He is standing near a pot of coffee. He grabs a nearby mug and then pours himself a cup. Then he seems to reach inside his coat pocket, pulling out something I can’t see. 

I hear the sound of liquid splashing on liquid and I put two and two together. Then he tightens the lid on what I’m assuming is his flask.

For a brief moment I think about saying something nasty, commenting about how irresponsible it is for him to be drinking on the job and how I can’t trust him to deal with my sister’s case if he is going to be drunk all the time. But then I remember that getting on this man’s bad side is probably not a good idea if I want him to actually help me out. 

He does actually seem to want me to get Prim back and there is something about him that makes me feel like I can trust him, something I don’t feel about many people. He may be brash and abrasive and sometimes just plain rude, but there is something about him I kind of like. He doesn’t seem to be bullshitting me. He has been honest about this whole process every step of the way, even if I don’t like what he has been saying. And that ever present scowl he wears makes me think we’re actually more alike than I would care to admit.

Before I can rattle my knuckles against the door he turns around, stopping mid stride when he sees me. He raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised by my presence. I can tell I caught him off guard, sneaking up on him like this. He doesn’t seem to like the idea of someone sneaking up on him.

“Well, hello sweetheart,” he says, taking a seat in his chair at his desk, “isn’t this a lovely little surprise.”

I move further into the room, taking a seat across from him and dropping my purse on the floor. “I had the day off from work,” I mumble an explanation, avoiding his eyes that seem much too amused by my presence than I care for.

“Uh huh,” he begins, his eyes surveying my closely, “so tell me, how is the grief counseling going? Are you opening up? Cleansing your soul?”

I glare at him angrily, not appreciating him making jokes about that hell he has forced me to endure. When I catch his eyes across the desk though, I see actual sincerity in his gaze, a look that seems to suggest he was just being flip about it to avoid overwhelming me or making it too obvious that he actually wants to know how I’m doing. 

The thought pulls me up short. This man is Prim’s social worker, he has no responsibility to me, he doesn’t even have to deal with me if he doesn’t want to.

The idea that he might actually care about me throws me and I shake my head to clear it. I can’t afford to get sidetracked, I need to focus on what I came here for.

“Listen, I want to know how soon a judge can hear my case about being named Prim’s legal guardian,” I ask, determined to do whatever it takes to get my little sister back.

“So you don’t even want to bitch to me about how much you hate those sessions?” Haymitch asks, completely ignoring my question.

“What else can I do to prove to the judge that I’m fit to be Prim’s guardian?” I ignore him, trying to get back on topic.

“Slow down girl,” he grumbles, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve already had this discussion with you. You can’t very well watch over someone else if you can’t even take care of yourself.”

My face flames in embarrassment. “I can take care of myself just fine!” I retort, although it’s weak and I don’t meet his eyes. 

“Your file tells a different story,” he replies, leaning forward and resting his hands on his desk, “look you haven’t had a very easy life, I get that. You’ve lost two parents for starters, which is enough to make anyone unstable at best. Then you’ve also had a ‘minor in possession’,...”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I’m the only 19 year old that has ever drank alcohol.”

“...been suspected of cutting...” Haymitch continues like he didn’t hear me.

“It was one time and I barely broke the skin,” I retort, feeling the shame overtake me as I remember one of my lowest moments. I wasn’t trying to hurt myself. I wasn’t. I guess I just had a weak moment and I gave in. But I promised Prim and I promised myself that I would never do it again.

“...and been charged with assault,” he adds, clearly not vey interested in letting me defend myself. 

That was a bit of an anomaly too. I was 16 and the town sheriff, Cray, a disgusting old man that kept showing up at our house to see how my mother, Prim, and I “were doing”, got a little too friendly with me, resting his hand on my leg for far too long, moving it up my thigh. I asked him to stop but he didn’t and before he could grab me or make any further advances I kicked him the groin. He charged me with ‘attacking a police officer’ and I didn’t feel like talking about how he had been groping me so it’s been on my record ever since. 

“All I’m saying is that right now you don’t have a chance in hell if your case goes to a judge,” Haymitch explains. “So you really need to bite the bullet and at least start trying during these grief counseling sessions.”

Suddenly a thought goes through my mind that makes me livid. “What do you mean I need to ‘start trying’?” I ask him, my voice rising. “Who said I wasn’t? Did Peeta Mellark tell you that? Did he say I wasn’t trying?” I can barely keep calm, my insides twisting with anger. The idea of of Peeta-fucking-Mellark giving Haymitch the run down about how I do nothing but sit and stare at the walls during those sessions makes me furious. I can’t stand the idea that he could be getting in the way of me getting Prim back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” He says, holding up his hands to pacify me, “calm down.”

“So it was him!” I practically shout, feeling the betrayal hit me like a ton of bricks, “he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” I ramble, completely losing my composure. “He’s not exactly the best judge of character. All he does is sit there, he doesn’t even do anything!”

I’m breathing hard, overcome with the sudden burst of emotion that overtook me at the thought that Peeta has been tattling on me to Haymitch, talking about how worthless I am. The truth is that I’m embarrassed that while everyone else in those sessions has the courage and strength to take those first steps towards healing I both can’t and don’t want to. There is a little voice in my mind, nagging me, pressuring me to do it for Prim, but the weak, selfish, scared part of me refuses to budge.

Only then do I notice that Haymitch is looking at me strangely, eyebrows raised, a look of confused concern etched on his face. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Peeta yet, actually,” he explains and I feel my stomach drop, both in relief and surprise.

“Oh,” is all I can manage.

“I was just assuming that you haven’t exactly taken too kindly to the idea of sharing your feelings and what not,” Haymitch explains with the wave of his hand. “Look, you want my advice? Go see your sister, see how she’s doing with that Trinket woman. Remind yourself why you’re doing this. Maybe it will give you a little extra motivation to get your ass in gear.”

I sigh, relaxing a little and realizing he’s right. “Alright,” I agree.

“Now don’t take it personally, but you got to go,” Haymitch says, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his drink. “People usually schedule appointments to come see me and this little pow wow we just had put me behind for the day.”

“Oh, sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed and yet grateful that he still talked to me.

I grab my purse and move to stand up. “And um...thanks,” I mutter, staring at my shoes. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes me off, “get out of here kid.”

A small smile creeps across my face and I walk out of his office feeling a little better than I did when I came in. 

X

I show up to Effie Trinket’s home unannounced. 

I have talked to Prim on the phone almost every night since I dropped her off, but I haven’t seen her since. Between work, where I handle the front desk at the gym, and grief counseling, it’s been hard to find time to make the long drive out here. That, and I’m still not sure what to think of this Effie woman. Prim says she’s been nice, although a little quirky, but I wasn’t exactly sure if she would be okay with me showing up all the time. Most of all though, I knew seeing Prim would make it that much harder for me to deal with her being gone. Getting to see her and hug her and then having to walk away and leave her behind is a kind of pain I didn’t want to deal with. 

I knock on the door and then twist my hands together anxiously.

The door flies open to reveal a perfectly made up Effie Trinket. Her makeup is dramatic and flawless just like before and there doesn’t seem to be a hair out of place on her head, making me wonder again about it being a wig.

“Katniss, darling!” She exclaims, smiling widely and revealing her perfectly straight and white teeth.

“Um hi,” I return, nervously shifting on my feet. I don’t really understand why she’s excited to see me.

“Come in, come in,” she ushers me into her home. I follow her into the foyer and take in my surroundings. She has a quaint little home, it’s one story and the dining room and living room are side by side in one large room on the left when you walk in. On the far side of the house I can see the white tiles and grey cabinets of a kitchen and to the immediate right is a long hallway with a couple of closed doors, holding what I’m assuming are the bedrooms and bathrooms.

“You have a nice place,” I tell her, shifting my purse strap on my shoulder.

“Oh thank you, dear,” she smiles at me. “Why don’t you take off your jacket, leave your bag by the door. Stay awhile!” She chuckles at her own joke. 

I reluctantly leave my things by the door as I follow her to the kitchen. “Um, where’s Prim?” I ask, trying to keep my tone neutral.

Effie glances at the clock in the kitchen. “Oh she should be home any minute. She had her Etiquette classes after school today,” she tells me with a smirk.

“Etiquette classes?” I question her, scrunching up my face at just the thought.

“Now, now, I know what you must be thinking,” she begins, taking two mugs from the cupboards in her kitchen as I take a seat on one of the stools at the center island. “But they’re actually very important for a young girl such as Prim. She’s about to become a woman and she needs to know how to handle herself, how to present herself to society.”

I can only stare at her dumbly in response. This woman is paying for Prim to have ‘Etiquette classes’? To me it seems like the most unnecessary waste of time, but I guess to a woman like Effie, knowing which is the salad fork is a very valuable skill to have.

“And um, Prim agreed to this?” I ask, failing to keep the edge out of my voice. I’m annoyed by the thought that she would force my sister into doing something so stupid and pointless.

“Would you like whip cream with your hot chocolate, dear?” She asks before answering me. I nod my head in confirmation and then she continues. “Well, she was a bit hesitant about it at first,” Effie begins, pouring the steaming dark liquid into each of our cups. “But I asked her to just give it a try. It’s only twice a week and I told her, I said, if you don’t want to continue after that first week you don’t have to.”

She swirls the white cream from the can onto each of our cups and then places mine in front of me. I tell her thank you and she smiles at me warmly. “And I’ll tell you what Katniss,” she continues, “after that first week she couldn’t wait to go back! She loved it, she met some new friends, she’s really enjoying herself!”

I look at her skeptically. I open my mouth, about to say something when we hear the sound of the front door opening.

“If you don’t believe me, just ask her yourself!” Effie says before I jump off the stool in the kitchen and walk towards the front door.

I stop in my tracks, taking in the sight of my little sister, kicking off her shoes and dropping her backpack on the floor. My heart clenches when I realize how much I’ve truly missed her, how much I’ve missed her smile and her laugh and just being able to hug her anytime I want. I feel tears pooling in my eyes.

“Hey little duck,” I say, getting her attention.

He head snaps up and she looks at me, completely caught off guard by my presence. It doesn’t take her long before her face breaks out into a huge smile and she rushes over to me, throwing her hands around my middle and hugging me as tightly as she can. 

“Katniss!! I missed you! I’m so glad you’re here,” she rattles out, pulling away breathless. 

“I missed you too,” I return, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

Only then do I realize that Effie is standing nearby, watching us with a smile. I feel a little self conscious all the sudden, unsure how it makes her feel to see Prim and I reuniting so joyously, like she has been this evil thing that has been keeping us apart.

When I really look at her though I realize there is nothing but warmth in her eyes. She looks genuinely happy to see Prim and I together again. There is no anger or selfishness or self pity there and it makes me realize how lucky I am that Prim is with a good, kind hearted person when she is away from me.

“Well, I bet you girls have a lot to catch up on,” she whispers conspiratorially. “I’ll run out and do some errands while you spend some time together. There are leftovers in the fridge,” she adds, moving towards the door where she grabs her designer bag.

“How was class today, Prim?” She asks while slipping on her coat.

“They gave us tea and cookies and made us wait a whole hour to actually eat them,” Prim giggles. The sound pulls at my heart strings. “I don’t get why you can’t dip your cookies in your tea.”

Effie looks affronted by the mere idea. “Primrose! You can enjoy cookies just fine without dipping them in your drinking cup.”

Prim and I laugh and then Effie slips out the door. We move into the living room and curl up on the couch together. 

I press Prim with every question I can think of. I ask her   
\≥about school and living with Effie and even her etiquette classes. We’ve covered a lot of this on the phone already, but I just want to hear her voice. I want to sit and watch her and listen to her talk. 

She talks non-stop, rambling on about anything and everything. I think she might know this is for my benefit more than anything else but she just goes along with it. She tells me about how she never sees Effie without her make-up on and how she lets her have ice cream as long as she’s finished her dinner. She talks about how Effie is a little uptight, but is always trying to be upbeat and positive. 

Again I’m hit with the feeling of relief that the woman that is taking care of Prim isn’t an awful nightmare, but genuinely seems to be doing a decent job at it.

“And those classes?” I ask.

“They’re kind of fun,” Prim shrugs and I think she might know what I think of them already so she’s trying to play it cool. I can see it in her eyes those that she actually is really enjoying them. “It’s different, you know. I never would have thought there are so many things to learn about forks and knives and how to shake someone’s hand,” she laughs.

“Oh, yeah, sounds riveting,” I tease her.

She playfully shoves me. “I actually met this girl there I really like. Her name’s Rue. We’re always partners and Effie even let her come over here last week after class.”

“Wow, that’s awesome,” I say, genuinely happy for my little sister. She has always been popular and well liked at school, but she has never had any particularly close friends. “Well, I’ll have to meet this Rue. Maybe we can all hang out next time I come,” I say and Prim lights up at the idea. 

I hug her and Effie comes home a little while later. She scolds us for not having eaten yet and then heats up some chicken and broccoli. We sit around the living room table eating, talking, and laughing easily. For the first time in a long time some pressure starts to ease from my chest and I feel some of the tension I’ve been carrying around with me since our mother died start to fade. 

I still miss Prim more than anything, but seeing the good hands she clearly is in makes for one less thing I have to worry about. I still want her back home with me, but it’s nice to know that Effie Trinket is someone I can trust, who is looking out for her while I can’t.

When I hug Prim before heading home it’s still bittersweet, but it hurts a lot less than last time I left her here.

X

I sneak Darius a 5 dollar bill for letting me in the bar.

I come here all the time and since I’m not 21 I’ve had to make friends with the bouncer. I’m not sure we’re exactly friends though, since he still asks for a “tip” whenever he lets me in without carding me, but whatever.

It’s the weekend so the place is pretty packed. I navigate my way through the crowd and find Gale. I freeze in my tracks when I see the person he’s with. Well, he’s actually with a group of people, mostly guys, but I focus in on the person he’s talking to specifically.

Long blonde hair, fair skin, and a low cut shirt. She’s drop dead gorgeous and I instantly feel self conscious. I trust Gale completely, but even looking at her from far away I can tell she is the kind of girl that just oozes sex, the kind of girl that guys drool over.

Hesitantly, I approach the table. Gale catches my eyes and breaks out into a huge smile. 

“Hey you!” He says, bringing me into his arms. When he pulls away he kisses me quickly and I can smell the beer on his breath. 

He puts his arm around me and turns back to the table. I wave to some of the guys I remember that he interns with at the law firm. Then he motions to the pretty blonde girl. “And this is Glimmer, she’s the receptionist at the firm. She just started last week.”

I smile politely and we shake hands.

She’s nice and she smiles back at me warmly, going out of her way to be overly friendly as I join in on the conversation. After a while though, I get bored. Glimmer and Gale are going on and on about people around the office and other things from their work that I could care less about.

“I’m going to get a drink,” I tell Gale, standing up from the table as he mumbles a noise of acknowledgement.

I approach the bar, squeezing into an empty space as I try and get the one bartender’s attention. She has red hair and a face like a fox. She is at least 15 feet away from me on the other side of the bar and is trying to attend to several loud, obnoxious drunk guys who are shouting their drink orders at her.

She pours two beers from the tap and then rings someone’s credit card up with lightning speed. Before she takes the next order she moves down closer to me and curls her head around an open door that leads to a back room. She calls out loudly, “Johanna, I could use some help out here!”

I freeze when I hear the name she called, searching my brain for where I recognize it from.

I don’t have to wait long when not two seconds later the familiar girl with short hair appears from the back room, tying an apron around her waist. She stops when she sees me, her eyes going wide in recognition. 

“I um...you’re from uh...” I stutter dumbly. 

I don’t know what I’m saying or even why I’m saying it. If I’m being honest the truth is this girl kind of intimidates me. I feel like she says things I’m always thinking but am too much of a coward to actually say. She also seems not to give a shit about what other people think about her. There’s something about her brash personality that I appreciate, especially during those counseling sessions. At the same time though, I know I am not exempt from her constant annoyance and discontent at the world around her.

Her face goes cold and she takes a few steps closer to me, leaning over the counter of the bar. “What? Are you going to announce to everyone how you know me, brainless?”

My face flushes red and I look away awkwardly. “Sorry...I didn’t mean to...”

I hear her sigh heavily and then look up to see her cross her arms in front of her chest. “Whatever,” she brushes it off. “You want something to drink or what?”

I nod my head and squeak out my drink order, waiting anxiously until she returns with my rum and coke. Just before she places it on the counter in front of me she pulls it back, looking at me curiously. “Wait....how old are you?”

“Umm....” I stutter, feeling my stomach drop. I wait for her to tell me to get out of the bar before she calls the cops, but amazingly she just laughs and hands me the drink. “I’m just fucking with you, brainless,” she laughs. 

I’m stunned and I try to recover quickly, playing it off like it’s no big deal. I go to hand her a 20 dollar bill, but she just waves me off. “It’s on the house,” she explains.

I look back at her, unsure if she’s joking or not. She laughs again. “You work at that gym on Central, right? The fancy one with the spa?”

I nod my head in confirmation, wondering how on earth she could possibly know this.

“Well maybe you can hook me up sometime,” she returns, raising her eyebrows at me.

She doesn’t give me a chance to respond, just turns and asks the next customer for their drink order.

I make my way back to the table trying to make sense of that little encounter. Gale and his friends have gotten increasingly louder as they’ve accumulated more empty beer glasses. I knock back my drink in a couple of minutes and flag down a waitress to order another one.

I try and smile and nod along to the conversation, but they’re all talking about work and law stuff that I don’t really understand. I know I should be a good girlfriend and just tough it out, but the truth is I don’t really want to be here right now.

To entertain myself I order a third drink in less than a couple hours and continue knocking them back, hoping it will liven up the evening. 

After a while I’m pretty drunk and still bored. 

Later, I return from the bathroom and find the table where we had all been sitting at completely deserted. I look around in confusion for a while and then spot them all across the room near the pool tables. My eyes immediately find Gale and I notice he’s talking to Glimmer again.

I push away the annoyance I feel and try and keep a level head. I know I’m drunk and I don’t need to make a big deal about this. I calmly walk over to them and grab Gale’s attention. 

“Hey, I think I’m going to head home,” I tell him.

“Really, you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired. I’ll just take a cab home,” I explain kissing him on the cheek.

“Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow,” he replies, returning his attention back to the game of pool.

I make my way through the crowd, happy and relieved to be going home. When I step outside into the cool night air I realize I’m a little drunker than I thought. I walk over to the street corner and look for any signs of a cab.

I pull out my phone to check the time and realize that since it’s not even close to last call yet the cabs aren’t lining up outside like they usually do. I decide to walk a block further down to a busier intersection, hoping I’ll have better luck. 

Three cabs pass me but they’re all either carrying other passengers already or just being complete assholes. I step off the curb into the street, deciding I might need to step in front of a cab and make it stop if I want to get home tonight.

“You sure you want to do that?”

I turn around at the sound of the familiar voice. Standing on the sidewalk is none other than Peeta Mellark; he’s wearing jeans, a blue plaid button down t-shirt and a leather jacket. He has this self-satisfied smirk on his face as he slips his phone into his front pocket.

“Uh yah, I do actually,” I respond, suddenly feeling a surge of anger and annoyance at him, at his presence, at the way seeing him makes me feel. I turn back to the street, still hoping for a cab to magically stop for me.

“What are you doing?” He asks, but I don’t bother even looking back at him.

“I’m looking for gentlemen callers,” I reply sarcastically and he chuckles in response. 

I hate that sound.

“You know I can give you a ride home. I’m parked like a block away and it’s going to take you forever to hail a cab,” he reasons with me.

I roll my eyes. No, I don’t want to go home with him, I don’t want to be alone with him, that’s not a good idea.

When I don’t respond for a moment I hear his exasperated sigh. “Come on, Katniss,” he pleads, “you’re going to spend all night out here freezing while you wait for a cab. Let me take you home.”

Finally, I drop my hand and turn back to him on the sidewalk. I’m standing there contemplating if I should really do this and I can tell he can sense my hesitation.

“There’s nothing wrong with getting a little bit of help,” he mumbles.

I freeze, looking up at him with wide eyes. I’m instantly taken back to that day a week ago when I basically chewed him out for handing me a pastry, when I told him I didn’t need his help. I can see in his eyes the recognition of that moment too and he looks scared, wondering if I’m going to run away again. 

But instead I just take a step back onto the curb and pull my jacket tighter around my body. “Okay sure, let’s go.”

He nods and starts walking in the opposite direction of the bar I came from. I follow behind him, trying to match his pace in my drunken state. The walk is quiet and short and unbearably awkward. When he turns into a little parking lot near a grocery store he walks towards a white truck, using his remote key to unlock the doors.

As I walk towards the passenger side he startles me, moving in front of me quickly and getting to the car before I do. I’m completely confused, wondering what on earth he’s doing. And then he opens the door for me and holds out his hand. I look at him strangely, about to tell him I’m not 5 and I can get in a car by myself. But then I see that there’s a step you have to use to actually get in the car and in my intoxicated state it might be tricky.

Without saying anything I slowly reach out and take his hand, using it for balance and a source of support. 

After he helps me in he shuts the door and moves around the car to his side. I take deep breaths and try and tell myself that the warmth of his skin against mine and how my stomach did flips from his touch is simply because I’m drunk.

When he gets in the car he starts up the engine and waits a moment as he turns down the radio and gets the heater going.

And then the words start coming from my lips and I can’t do anything to stop them.

“Thank you,” I blurt out and he looks over at me surprised.

He smiles at me and it’s like looking into the sun, I have to look away.

“You’re very welcome,” he laughs.

“I’m sorry, about the other day,” I add. “When you tried to give me those cheese buns.” I stare at my hands folded neatly in my lap. I can sense him tense up, unsure of how to respond. “I just...I don’t know....I thought someone might have told you about...my situation....that you were going out of your way to help me because of it...” I hesitate, unsure of what else to say. “I just...didn’t want your pity,” I add quietly.

“Katniss...I don’t know anything about you...how can I? You’re as silent as a mouse during those sessions,” he jokes, and his soft laughter makes me feel a little better. “I gave those cheese buns to everyone in the group. You were late that day, remember? I just saved you a couple to give to you afterwards.”

I feel strange all of the sudden, touched that he thought to save me some and disappointed - is that the right word? - that it was just something he did for everyone, that I wasn’t special. 

“And besides, it was your loss,” he adds, beginning to back his truck out of the parking spot, “I made them myself and they’re really, really good.”

I laugh out loud feeling some of the tension leave my chest for the first time since I saw him. I feel lighter all the sudden and I can feel the alcohol coursing through me, making me less uptight and less inhibited. “Is that right?” I joke.

“Yeah, but if you’re lucky maybe you can still get a taste of them some day,” he returns, looking over at me and raising his eyebrows playfully.

I gulp, pushing down the small thrill that just shot through me at the thought that he is flirting with me. 

No, that’s not okay. That’s not okay at all. 

There are a million reasons why that’s not okay and it doesn’t matter if my inebriated self doesn’t seem to mind the idea all that much, the real Katniss knows that can never happen, it will never happen.

To avoid all these dangerous thoughts I decide to make sure this conversation gets steered in the complete opposite direction.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are way too young to be a grief counselor?” I ask, looking over at him inquisitively.

“All the time,” he replies without hesitation.

“So I mean, are you a sadist or something? Do you actually enjoy hearing all those awful stories about how much people have suffered?” I can’t stop the words from coming even though I know it is completely inappropriate and just plain rude to be saying these things. The small, still sane and rational part of me is cringing, but the alcohol has loosened my tongue and I don’t really care about censoring myself right now.

“See that’s where you and I differ,” he says, turning to look directly at me as we come to a stop light. “You focus on the pain and suffering these people have endured as a result of losing their loved ones. I focus on when they start to smile more when they remember their loved ones, when they can laugh at the memories instead of cry. I focus on when they can start to help other people out who have been through the same thing.”

“So you’re delusional,” I return simply.

He laughs again. I really wish he would stop doing that. I don’t like how that sound makes me feel.

“I guess we just see things differently, Katniss.”

And I really wish he wouldn’t say my name like that.

I hate that he’s having such an effect on me. I don’t like letting people in for this exact reason. I thought I’d been doing a pretty decent job of keeping him at a distance these past several weeks, but I guess he’s gotten under my skin more than I care to admit.

“But I mean, what gives you the right to tell people who have endured so much that everything is going to be okay? Isn’t that a little...irresponsible?” I really wish I would just shut up. I know I am going to regret all of this at our next session on Monday. I never talk this much, especially to people I don’t know. I don’t understand what makes him different.

“We’ve all had our crosses to bear,” he says, turning his gaze back on the road. 

I’m silent for a moment as I consider his answer. It’s certainly a loaded statement and it makes me realize there is probably a lot more to him than my initial first impression. I feel unsure and uncomfortable all the sudden as if I’ve overstepped some imaginary line.

“And I don’t think it’s irresponsible to give people hope. I don’t think it’s wrong to try and help them get better.”

I don’t say anything in response. His words have created a mess of confusing thoughts in my head that I can’t quiet down. I give him my address and then we’re both quiet for a long while.

As we get closer to my apartment I feel both simultaneously relieved and anxious. I’m relieved to get home and be out of this truck and away from Peeta Mellark and this conversation. And at the same time, for reasons I don’t quite understand, I don’t really want to go home to an empty apartment. I don’t want to have to face that moment when I have to tell him goodbye.

As he pulls up in front of my building I gather my purse and ready myself to thank him and get out of the car as quickly as possible.

Instead, he surprises me.

“Katniss....can I ask you why you’re doing grief counseling? Why do you come to every session just to sit there in silence the whole time?” His eyes are soft and his tone is gentle and I can tell he’s trying his best to be delicate with me, afraid I’m going to run or snap at him.

“I just am,” I shrug, reaching out to grab the door handle. 

I can’t stay, but I don’t want to go.

“If it’s something I’m doing that is making you uncomfortable, that is stopping you from participating, you’ll tell me, right?” His eyes look so sad and I feel strange, like the idea of him being upset is making me upset, like I want to comfort him and tell him that’s not the case at all.

“No, it’s not you,” I whisper quietly. “Truly, Peeta...don’t worry about me. I’m a lost cause.”

And with that I turn and exit his vehicle, slamming the door shut behind me and ignoring the sound of him calling my name. I run up the stairs to my building and let myself in before I can do something stupid like stop and go back to him.


	4. Chapter 4

When I hang up the phone it takes me a while to process everything I just heard.

I’ve just finished speaking with a social worker by the name of Haymitch Abernathy. I’ve dealt with social workers before, especially since grief counseling is often times court ordered for certain people in the group, but this conversation was definitely different. Technically Katniss isn’t his responsibility, her younger sister Prim is, but he still went out of his way to contact me.

He told me about how he is helping Katniss to hopefully be named Prim’s legal guardian and he explained about how her younger sister is off living with a distant family relative because both their mother and father have passed. It was hard for me to concentrate after that, my stomach contracting uncomfortably, feeling the pain in such a more direct way than I’m used to. I hear about the horrible details, the excruciating specific accounts of how members of the group have lost their loved ones all the time, but I can’t seem to remember any of their stories affecting me as much as this.

When I look into Katniss’ steely grey eyes, when I see the pain and sadness, when I see the way she seems resigned to live in despair and how she says things like ‘I’m a lost cause’, like she did the other night when I drove her home, I’m overcome by this need to help her. I’m overcome with this need to tell her it doesn’t have to be like that, to get her to look into my eyes so I can promise her that it will get better, that it does get better. 

This desire, this desperation, to want to see her heal and move forward more than anyone I’ve ever worked with before, leaves me feeling the physical effects of knowing the pain she has been through, and the pain she is currently enduring, in a very real way.

I feel like now I know the kind of person Katniss is. She is strong enough to survive losing both her parents. She is only concerned about making sure her little sister is always taken care of, even if it means dragging herself to grief counseling sessions that she hates three times a week. And she is also the type of person to shut down and turn away from the world around her because she has already suffered so much.

I’m having a hard time focusing before the session starts, so many thoughts running through my mind. I make the usual small talk at the refreshment table as people slowly filter into the Church basement. My eyes keep flicking towards the door though, hoping to catch sight of that olive skin and long dark braid. I can barely keep a conversation with Thom, not really listening as he tells me about a great casserole recipe he found the other day. 

When I see her come into the room at 4:55pm her eyes immediately find my own before she looks away, darting over to the opposite corner of the room. I excuse myself from the conversation with Thom and immediately make my way towards her. She is standing alone in the corner, her eyes glued to the cell phone in her hand. She always does that when she gets here before the session starts, she pretends to look preoccupied so she doesn’t have to talk to anyone.

“Hey,” I say softly as I approach her.

She looks up at me, startled that I’ve actually come over to speak with her. 

“How are you?” I ask tentatively, deciding to take it slow.

She shrugs, still eyeing me warily. “Um okay, I guess...” she trails off. “Look, about the other night...I might have been a little drunk and if I said something that was...out of line or rude or whatever...I’m sorry.”

“Not at all,” I assure her because it’s true. If anything she was just being honest with me and I’m glad. I finally got a chance to hear what she was actually thinking for once.

“I just...” I hesitate, not sure how to say this without freaking her out or coming on too strong. “I really hope you’re not resigned to this ‘lost cause’ business because I don’t think that’s true.”

She looks back at me, her eyes searching my face. I can’t read her expression but it’s intense and my heart starts hammering in my chest. The way she is looking at me makes me feel a warm, curious stirring in my chest, a kind of emotion that is completely foreign, as well as equal parts thrilling and terrifying. I’m trapped under her powerful stare and I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.

After a good long while she finally speaks up.

“Thanks for the ride home the other night, Peeta,” she says, and then moves past me and walks towards the familiar circle of chairs set up in the middle of the room, taking her seat.

I’m left standing there at a complete loss, unsure of what to do. Finally, I pull myself together and try and shake off the interaction, knowing I need to focus on getting the session started. 

I walk back to my chair and take a seat, waiting for everyone to join me before speaking. I begin the session like usual, inviting those that feel they need or want to share to speak up.

It’s the usual crowd that talks like always and everyone in the group goes back and forth for a little while, commenting on certain people’s situations, sharing how they’ve dealt with similar issues, giving examples of what has worked for them in the past.

Annie, who is starting to speak almost regularly during these sessions, shines like a beacon of hope for the quiet, reserved members of the group. From someone who could barely force herself to mumble about the pain of her past, losing her brother and dealing with an abusive mother, a few weeks ago, to someone who speaks now with conviction and without hesitation pretty frequently. She is still quiet, and I think that’s just her personality, but she is more open about sharing the hardest details about her past because I think she’s come to accept that this really is the safest environment to do it, that everyone in this room has been through similar struggles.

“With my brother it always felt like he was this huge burden of responsibility on my shoulders,” she says, crossing her legs and fidgeting with her hands in her lap. “I mean, obviously I loved him and I wanted to take care of him, but at the same time I felt like he was becoming my whole life, his problems became mine; my mood, my health, my happiness all started to depend on how he was doing. And with someone who was as mentally ill as he was it wasn’t a good thing, it dragged me down until it almost tore me apart.” 

She takes a deep shuddering breath before she continues. “So I guess in a way there was almost a little relief when he died, like this anchor that had been weighing me down was gone. And of course even thinking that makes you feel horrible, makes you feel like the worst person in the world. But it’s the truth no matter how awful it may seem and I think I have kind of come to realize that it was normal for me to feel like that.”

I don’t respond immediately because truthfully I’m still a little bit in awe at how far this girl has come. It makes me feel good, it makes me remember why I picked this career, it makes me happy to see someone working through their pain and trying to get better. It also gives me hope that even the most quiet, reserved people can open up and heal. 

My eyes immediately flicker over to Katniss as that last thought crosses my mind.

Before I can speak up someone who I never would have predicted beats me to it.

“I lost my sister,” I turn and whip my head to see Johanna speaking, sitting directly across from Annie. She is stone faced but her jaw is clenched tightly together and I think I see tears pooling in her eyes. She looks determined not to cry and her voice is hoarse as she struggles to get the words out. 

“Well, not technically. She’s on life support. Brain damage from the car accident. It was a drunk driver.” Her words come out in short, choppy little breaths and I know this is probably the hardest thing in the world for her to do. “I haven’t pulled the plug yet, but I know exactly what you mean about feeling relieved about them being gone. Because whenever I think of letting her go I think about the relief I would feel and I hate myself for it. I feel so fucking guilty about feeling that way but at the same time I’m selfish and lonely and I don’t want to do it because she’s the only person left in my family.”

She pauses and makes a kind of choking sound, gasping for air. She stares down at her lap as she tries to compose herself and the entire room is dead silent. Finally, she looks back up, her lips trembling, a stray tear having made it’s way down her cheek.

Annie returns her gaze across the room, looking at her with warmth and compassion. She smiles gently at her. “I honestly think it’s the most normal thing in the world to feel that way. And you can’t beat yourself up over it.” Johanna looks back at her in a bit of a daze, finally nodding in response. “Believe me, I felt everything you’re feeling for so long. It took me a while to finally realize it, but when I did it was so much easier to let go and move on.”

Johanna doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the session, still looking like she is processing the little interaction she had with Annie. Other people continue to share and it starts to near the end of the hour. I’m feeling so encouraged by both Annie and Johanna’s progress today that I feel that familiar urge to go out of my way and help the other girl that is always so quiet and shy.

I glance over at Katniss, noticing the almost troubled look in her eyes. I decide to try and get through to her by using a different approach, something I never usually do.

“I thought maybe I could end today’s session by sharing about myself,” I say during a break in the conversation. I look over at Katniss and deliberately catch her eye before continuing. “I lost two people really close to me, people who I grew up with, who I loved with my whole heart. My older brothers died when I was really young and....” I pause, realizing that talking about it still hurts, that no matter how long it has been when I think back to that awful time in my life, something inside me shuts down. 

“And...the way they died wasn’t fair...it was awful...horrific really.” I swallow the lump in my throat, fighting off the emotion. “I guess I just wanted to say that after all these years I’ve learned that a huge part of the grieving process is accepting that it will never really go away, it never stops hurting. You’ll never reach a point where you don’t miss them. And that may sound depressing and pessimistic, but it’s just the truth.” I pause, trying to quiet the storm raging inside me. 

“And I think understanding this is what allows you to move on. It allows you to try and heal because you’re not afraid anymore of undertaking this huge, impossible task of ‘getting over it’ or ‘being okay’ with what happened. Once you realize that you won’t be, once you realize that you won’t be, but that it’s okay, then moving forward isn’t as scary. Once you realize you might not be perfectly put back together again, but you can still be whole and happy one day, then I think you’ll want to try a lot harder to heal and get better.”

I finish and take a deep breath, my words having come out rushed and in one long exhale. I swallow thickly, realizing I’ve never really opened up that much about my personal life with this group before. Apparently there’s something about Katniss that can get me to do things I never expected though. I glance across the circle to look at her. She is staring at me with something resembling amazement. I’m sure she didn’t expect me to share my life story today. She almost looks taken aback, like what I just did and said has completely thrown her for a loop.

I open my mouth to say something, but the familiar Church bells start ringing loudly in the distance, indicating that the hour is up and the session is over. I dismiss the group and say quick goodbyes to everyone. I know I should stay and talk to whoever wants to speak with me, but the truth is there is only one person I really want to speak with, one person that I need to speak with. 

I see her dark hair whip out of the room and I excuse myself quickly so I can follow her. I take the stairs leading from the basement two at a time until I come out in the Church lobby and then head out into the parking lot.

I stop on the steps of the Church, scanning the relatively small parking lot for her. I spot her a few aisles away, practically speed walking to her car.

I start to lightly jog towards her, trying to catch up. “Katniss!” I yell, but she doesn’t slow down. “Katniss, wait!”

Finally I reach her, slowing my pace as I fall in line next to her. “Katniss, can you just wait a minute?” I demand, finally reaching out and grabbing her forearm. When I grab her arm I pull her towards me and she instantly comes to a stop.

But I lose all train of thought as the feeling of her skin under my hand instantly ignites something in me that is impossible to ignore. The feeling causes a tightening in my chest and a strange tingling sensation that begins in my fingertips and shoots through my entire body. I have never felt anything remotely like this before, I’ve never been so affected by a simple touch. 

She freezes, but she doesn’t pull away. In fact, she closes her eyes and the way her breathing starts to speed up makes me almost certain that she can feel it too. Mere inches separate our bodies as I gaze down at her, my hand still clasping tightly to her forearm.

The electricity is still there but as I look down at her face, her plump lips and olive skin, I can feel a more familiar sensation stirring in my groin, my pants suddenly getting tighter. I try my best to shake it off and clear my head.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” I plead with her, now feeling more desperate than ever not to let this girl continue to suffer, to help her if it’s the last thing I do.

She hesitates for a moment, finally opening her eyes and looking up at me.

Then she pulls her arm free from my grasp and takes a step back.

“Because you can’t” she responds simply and then turns and flees, scurrying off to her car before I can stop her.

X

“Can we just order? I’m starving.”

I lower my menu and look across the booth at Finnick. His head is in his hands as he groans in displeasure. To say Finnick can become irritable and whiny when he’s hungry is a bit of an understatement.

“Calm down, she just walked in,” I inform him as I catch sight of Delly heading towards our table over his shoulder.

“Hey losers, what’s up?” She greets us both cheerfully, sliding into the booth next to Finnick.

“I’m fucking starving, that’s what’s up,” Finnick grumbles back at her.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Odair,” she chides him. “Oh, I really want a burger,” she adds, inspecting the menu.

We order and when our food comes we all dig in and Finnick’s mood drastically improves. In the middle of our meal and in the middle of our conversation I can’t help thinking what an odd trio we make. I never would have expected these two to become my closest friends after college, basically the only people I keep in contact with anymore. We all work well together though, our different personalities all balancing each other out. It feels like the most natural thing in the world now. I’m thankful for Finnick’s unpredictability and Delly’s innate goodness, because it keeps me sane, it’s something I’ve come to rely on.

Finnick takes the last bite of his hamburger and crumples up his napkin. He throws it on his plate and then pushes it away from him and leans back with a satisfied moan.

“Better?” I ask him, amused at the sleepy, content look on his face that has replaced the irritable one from earlier.

He nods enthusiastically.

He takes a sip of his soda and then turns his attention to Delly. “So, Delly, how’s work?”

She immediately quirks her eyebrow at him, eyeing him suspiciously. I don’t really blame her. Finnick doesn’t usually go around asking questions about people’s days so something is definitely up.

“What do you want?” She asks him bluntly.

He pretends to look affronted by her response. “Jeez, can’t I just ask how your day was?”

She just continues looking at him skeptically and it doesn’t take long before he cracks. “Okay fine,” he relents. “I wanted to know if you’d be so kind as to get me the number for one of your co-workers, a particularly pretty brunette who you brought to the bar the other week.” He eyes her hopefully, already knowing how she may respond to his request.

Delly stares back at him disbelievingly for a long moment. Finally, she snaps out of her daze and shakes her head, laughing a little despite herself.

“No way, Finn,” she returns easily.

“What? Come on! Why?” Finnick returns in protest.

“Because I’m not helping you to try and get into my friend’s panties. Annie is really nice and sweet, and she doesn’t need to be another one of your conquests.” Delly explains simply.

“I’m not trying to just get into her panties!” Finnick responds, face flushed. He looks worked up, almost like he’s genuinely upset at the idea that she’s assuming that about him, despite it being a pretty fair guess based on his history. “I’m not, okay?”

Delly eyes him carefully for a while, inspecting the slightly perturbed look on his face. He looks different than his normal, calm and confident self, he looks unsure and nervous. The thought throws me, makes me realize something really must be up.

“Oh my god, you like her,” Delly whispers and Finn snaps his head up to meet her eyes. “You like actually really like her. Like you have a freaking crush on her!” Delly says joyfully. I can only watch as Finnick blushes a deep red and stares at the table.

“So are you going to give me her number or what?” Finnick finally asks, ignoring her earlier comments.

“No,” Delly responds and his face falls. “But I will bring her around to hang out with us again. It can be the four of us like last time so there’s less pressure that way. I know you’re new to this whole dating game Finn, so I’ll make it as easy as possible for you.”

Delly smiles at him, shoving him in the arm good-naturedly. Finn finally cracks a smile and seems relieved to have that out of the way. 

“I never thought I’d see the day where Finnick Odair didn’t want to just hit it and quit it,” Delly says, turning to face me. I crack a smile at her teasing. “We’re going to have to walk you through the ways of courting a girl Finn,” she adds, “you’re going to have to take a much more subtle approach with Annie than you would with your normal girl at the bar who ends up in your bed.”

Finnick shrugs and takes another sip of his drink. “Never thought I’d see the day where you two would have something to teach me.”

Delly gapes at him in mock anger, shoving him in the arm again. Finnick just laughs and throws his arm over her shoulder. “Thanks Cartwright, I owe you.”

I’m broken from their little bonding moment when my cell phone starts ringing. I’m about to just ignore the call when I realize the number calling is the hospital. My heart starts pounding heavily in my chest as I pick up, listening to the quiet professional tone on the other end in a daze.

I look across the booth and find Delly and Finnick watching me apprehensively, concern etched into their features. I respond with a few simple ‘yeahs’ and ‘okays’ and then hang up.

They don’t say anything for a moment, waiting instead for me to talk first.

“That was the hospital,” I explain, “they want me to come down there right now to discuss my dad’s treatment.” I swallow thickly trying to ignore the horrible sickening feeling that is growing in my stomach.

After a brief moment of silence, Delly is the fist to speak up.

She grabs her coat and starts scooting out of the booth, “Well, let’s get down there then.”

After that I don’t hesitate, jumping up to follow her and sending both her and Finn a grateful smile for being by my side through all of this.

At the hospital we sit at my dad’s bedside for 2 1/2 hours before the doctor finally comes in to speak with me. My dad seems exhausted, but he never stops his conversation with Delly and Finnick. He’s come to see them like his own children after all the years of us hanging around together. He smiles brighter and laughs a little more easily with their presence in the room. It’s a lot less tense and anxious than my normal visits where it’s just me and him and his cancer weighs heavily in the air, hanging over us like a dark cloud that we can’t ignore. 

When the doctor comes in he greets us all and then I step out in the hallway to speak to him privately. 

“We did some scans the other day and saw that the second, more aggressive round of chemo we implemented hasn’t been as successful as we would have hoped in shrinking the size of the tumor,” the middle aged doctor begins, using that clinical tone that I’ve come to realize everyone at the hospital uses to discuss things like this. The tone that makes it sound like they could be discussing a simple math problem rather than my dad’s life.

“Okay, so what’s the next step?” I ask, running a hand through my hair in distress at the news.

“We want to schedule surgery to go in and try to remove as much of it as we can. We had initially hoped to avoid surgery, between your father’s age and the history of heart problems in his family, we didn’t want to risk it if we could have avoided it, but it’s a step that has to be taken at this stage.” 

I swallow the lump that forms in my throat, fighting off the emotion that threatens to consume me so I can stay composed and deal with this situation. In a sense I’m almost relieved and encouraged that this is happening, that they’re going to try and do something that might actually really help him. The chemo has worn him down and I know surgery isn’t a magic cure, but at least it’s something.

The doctor goes on to tell me that there could be complications based on the tumor’s size and location and they might not be able to remove all, or any, of it once they get in there and really see for themselves. I nod understandingly and he informs me they’ll have a hospital attendant come by in a little bit to schedule the surgery which they’ll perform in the next few weeks in order to let my dad’s body rest and recover from his last chemo treatment. 

After he leaves I head back in the room and try to push away the worry I feel and just enjoy the presence of my dad and two closest friends. Finnick and Delly eventually head home to leave us some time alone together and then it gets harder and harder to keep it together.

“What did I tell you Peeta? Never try to hide what you’re feeling, that doesn’t make you a man,” my dad tells me as I sit at the edge of his bed, grasping his hand between my own.

“I know,” I reply, still trying to fight off the tears despite myself.

“This will be good,” my dad tries to assure me. “This way, after the surgery we’ll know for sure one way or the other,” he explains and I realize that is exactly what I’m afraid of. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I hate chemo,” he adds, somehow laughing about it. “I say, let them cut me open if it means the damn puking stops.”

“It’ll be okay,” I say, squeezing his hand gently, trying to reassure myself as much as him.

“Of course it will,” he responds. “Now tell me about what’s going on with you. I’m sick of hospital talk. Any pretty girls catch your eye lately?”

I hesitate as an image of Katniss flashes across my mind. I quickly shake my head to clear it though because I know those are the kind of thoughts I can not be entertaining.

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

“Now you wouldn’t lie to your poor, sick old man, right?” My dad teases me. “Because I can see it in your eyes and I know my boy and I know there is some lucky girl out there.”

I shrug, not sure how to explain it. 

“There is this one girl...” I begin but I have no idea where to go from there. How do I explain that there is a girl who I can’t get out of my mind, but who I’m also working with in grief counseling? How do I explain that it doesn’t matter if I think about her like that because it can’t happen? 

After a long, awkward moment of silence where I can’t seem to find any words my dad finally speaks up. He pats the back of my hand reassuringly, “Say no more, I’ve been there before,” he chuckles.

“It’s just complicated,” I finally get out.

“Matters of the heart aren’t really complicated,” he returns, “It’s what’s in our head that makes everything so difficult. But the heart? The heart knows what it wants.”

I shrug. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I agree.

“Have you ever known me not to be right?” He returns without missing a beat. He laughs until it turns into a cough and then after he calms down he almost immediately dozes off. 

I stay by his side until visiting hours are over and then finally head home.

X

I pace nervously around my office, running my hands through my hair.

I’m having an internal battle with myself, going back and forth between thinking this was a horrible idea and knowing that this had to happen. 

My office is a decent sized room with a desk in the corner and bookshelves lining the walls. When you first walk in there is a large cushioned chair adjacent to a small sofa, separated by a glass coffee table on an area rug. I anxiously insure that everything is in place for the hundredth time and then check the clock once more.

The reason behind my current state of distress is a social worker that I’m getting to know quite well. After another phone conversation with Haymitch Abernathy where he wanted to know about what progress, if any, Katniss was making in counseling, I had no choice but to be honest with him and tell him that she wasn’t really improving. She wasn’t sharing, she wasn’t interacting with any other group members, and she barely seemed to be listening most of the time.

I didn’t mention the two small conversations I had with her where she told me she was a ‘lost cause’ and that ‘I couldn’t help her’. 

The older man had sighed on the phone when he heard this, an exasperated noise of discontent, that made me realize he was as invested in helping Katniss as I was. I casually mentioned that maybe talking in front of a lot of people made her uneasy, thinking about how she was more candid with me those few times we had been alone than in the month’s worth of sessions she had already attended.

It was that comment that made Haymitch suggest one-on-one sessions where it could just be me and her and after a little hesitation I eventually agreed, realizing that it was probably the best option for Katniss right now. 

Haymitch had told me that he would be the one to call and tell Katniss since she would probably need a little convincing. He said if I didn’t hear from him before the scheduled first session that meant Katniss had, most likely begrudgingly, agreed to come.

Now it’s 5 minutes before the scheduled start of our first one-on-one session and I never heard from Haymitch so I can only assume that means Katniss will be here. The more I think about it and the longer I wait, unable to sit still in my office, the more my stomach continues to twist in knots at the idea of her actually showing up, of us being alone together.

Just as I’m about to pick up my phone and call Haymitch to maybe see if we can push this off until a later date I hear two hard, quick knocks on my office door. I move over to the door and open it quickly, taking in the sight of Katniss with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her eyes narrowed, clearly annoyed.

“So he told you.”

It’s not a question, it’s a simple statement since we both already know the answer. The fact I know something that I’m certain she had no plans on ever telling me makes the tension between us thick and uncomfortable.

“Yeah, he did,” I answer her anyways. “Just that your parents have passed and your sister is living with a relative. And that you’re trying to be named her legal guardian.”

She rolls her eyes and brushes past me into the room, throwing her purse on the sofa before plopping down next to it.

“Great. Now you know my life story.” She crosses her arms and looks away from me as I close the door and take a seat in the chair next to the sofa. 

“I’m sorry,” I begin awkwardly, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, “he was just trying to help,” I say, for some reason feeling like I should defend Haymitch.

She laughs, a short, breathy little chuckle that makes it clear she is not at all amused.

“Everyone just wants to help,” she says, finally meeting my eyes for the first time since she walked in. I think back to the last counseling session when I caught up with her in the parking lot and she told me I couldn’t help her. Based on the look in her eyes I can tell she’s remembering that moment too.

“Look Katniss,” I begin, “I know you don’t exactly want to do this. But the fact of the matter is that this is going to help you get your sister back. And I’m sure that’s reason enough right there.”

She locks her eyes on me, the intensity of her gaze almost causing me to look away. Finally, she shakes her head a little exasperated, but doesn’t say anything.

“Haymitch and I thought it would be easier if we started doing these one-on-one sessions. I know the group setting can be a little intimidating and it’s definitely not for everyone.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she shrugs, not meeting my eyes again.

“And this doesn’t have to be...what I’m sure you’re thinking it’s going to be like. You can talk about whatever you want.” She looks skeptical, but doesn’t say anything. “Like tell me about your sister,” I encourage her.

“Why do you want to know about my sister?” She asks uncertainly.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I return. “She’s obviously pretty important to you.”

She looks at me for a long moment, her eyebrows pinched together, her face scrunched up in a look of concentrated concern. She opens her mouth to speak, but then hesitates.

“How old is she?” I ask, hoping to make it easier on her.

“Fourteen,” she responds immediately. She still looks unsure, like she’s debating how much she should dare actually tell me. After a brief moment of consideration she continues. “Her name’s Prim,” she adds, “short for Primrose.”

“Do you guys look alike?”

“Not at all,” she returns, surprising me as she continues to answer my questions rather than shutting me out. “She has fair skin, blonde hair and blue eyes,” she explains, nervously picking at the hem of her shirt. “You and she could be related.”

I laugh, surprised by her answer. 

“And the relative she’s staying with? How’s she handling that?”

Katniss shrugs. “It’s my mom’s second cousin,” she begins, still nervously fidgeting with her hands, “and she’s doing surprisingly well. She actually doesn’t seem to mind it all that much.”

She trails off and I pick up on a shift in her mood. I want to keep the conversation going, desperate to keep her talking because it feels like this is the most she’s said in one sitting since I met her. I’m just about to say something when she stands up from the couch and starts to pace around the room, inspecting the framed pictures and diplomas on the wall and the books on the shelves, keeping her back towards me.

I stand up to join her, making sure to stay a few feet behind her as she continues to survey my office carefully. “I’m sure that hasn’t been very easy,” I begin carefully, “not having your sister around,” I clarify.

She looks at me over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing. She looks annoyed and I know I’m treading on very dangerous territory. “Yeah it’s been shitty,” she says curtly, turning her back to me again. 

She’s silent for a long time, pacing around the office, appearing to be enthralled by my wall decorations and the books I keep on hand. 

“You’ve been taking care of her for a while,” I break the silence and she snaps her head back to look at me. “I mean, Haymitch mentioned about your mom...” I trail off, seeing the fire in her eyes, knowing that she doesn’t like the idea of me knowing so much about her, that she doesn’t like the fact I’m confronting her about it right now.

“I don’t know, it’s just probably hard to feel like you have to be the parent, to feel like you’re in charge of your sister when there was no one to be a parent to you.” And immediately I know, I’ve said too much, gone too far. 

I see the tears start to form in her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. Instead she clenches her jaw tightly, breathing heavily through her nose. 

Before I know what’s happening I see her take two quick steps towards me, hands outstretched. I’m confused until I feel her shove me violently in the chest, her arms pining me to the nearest wall.

“You don’t know anything about me, okay?” She fumes, her face inches away from mine. The threat of tears is gone and now all I can see is the anger, and the pain, flashing in her eyes.

“And you’re not going to magically cure me,” she adds and suddenly all I can think about is how close she is, the warmth of her body, how bad I want her.

I try to push away those kind of thoughts, cursing my traitorous body for wanting to turn her around and slam her up against the wall so I can kiss her for as long as I want.

She hesitates and I think I see her eyes flicker to my lips, but maybe I’m just imagining it. There’s that spark in the air between us though and I think she might feel it too. She pulls back just slightly but keeps her hands firmly on my shoulders, preventing me from moving.

“Stop trying to fix me, okay?” She warns. “I don’t need to be fixed.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I know you don’t. I’m not trying to fix you, but I know what it feels like to feel broken when those people you care about most aren’t around anymore.”

She drops her hands from my shoulders and steps back, seeming almost surprised at the position we were just in. She seems to contemplate my words in the silence that follows. We’re both breathing heavily and all we can do is just stand there looking at each other. 

It’s strange how it just hits me in a moment of clarity. I want her. I want to ease her pain and I want to know what it’s like to kiss her. I want to be the person that helps her get her sister back and I want to feel her body pressed against mine.

I want these things that I know I shouldn’t. But now it feels like I’m past the point of caring. There’s no turning back, no forgetting about this girl and simply ignoring how I feel about her now.


	5. Chapter 5

Smile more, Katniss.

I mentally remind myself the advice my boss gives me almost everyday at work. I’m sitting at the front desk, monitoring the people coming and going in and out of the gym. Unless a member has an issue or a question there is not always a whole lot for me to do. And since I can’t exactly bury my head in a book or put my headphones on and space out, I often find myself just sitting and staring straight ahead, letting my mind wander. When I do this I tend to scowl out of habit and for the people who walk by me I’m sure it’s not a very pleasant sight to look at.

I attempt a weak smile at a perky, blonde girl who walks in through the front doors, perfectly made up despite about to begin a workout, but it comes out as more of a grimace. She looks at me strangely and then looks away. I quickly drop the act, realizing that I will never be the cheerful, smiling-for-no-reason type. If Plutarch wants to move me from the front desk he’ll have to put someone up here less experienced and I know he hates to do that.

I decide to at least keep busy to stop myself from staring into space and looking disgruntled, scaring the gym members away, by making sure the files are in order. My head is down, rearranging some forms when I hear a familiar voice.

“Hey brainless.”

I look up, startled to see none other than Johanna Mason, leaning over the desk and staring down at me. She’s wearing nothing but a sports bra and shorts and she has a headband over her hair although I don’t see why she needs it because her hair is so short. 

“Um...uhh....hi,” I manage to stutter out, wincing at how pathetic I sound. I just can’t seem to help it though, especially when I’m around this girl. She’s older and doesn’t really seem like she likes me all that much, and for some reason I wish she did.

“So where you’ve been lately? I haven’t seen you at a session in a couple of weeks. Decided you’ve had enough of blondie preaching about how ‘life goes on’ and ‘it gets better’?” She asks, bobbing up and down on her feet eagerly. She seems to have a lot of energy for it being so early in the morning.

“Oh, umm uh no...” I mumble, my face heating as I realize I have to explain my absence. For some reason though it never occurs to me to lie or just not tell her. Instead I find myself admitting to the truth, my eyes avoiding her careful gaze.

“I umm....I started one-on-one sessions with Peeta,” I barely manage to get out.

After a moment of silence she surprises me by laughing out loudly, throwing her head back as her face scrunches up from her smile. I immediately press my lips together, shooting daggers at her, feeling the anger start to swell inside me because apparently she thinks my situation is funny.

She catches sight of my expression though and immediately backtracks, trying to stop her giggles. “Oh, I’m sorry...I’m not laughing about what you think I’m laughing about.”

“Oh yeah, then what’s so funny?” I ask, still annoyed.

She shrugs, but she still has a dumb smirk plastered on her face. “I don’t know. It’s just the idea of you and Mr. The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow holed up in a room together. He’s all happy and optimistic and shit and you always look like you have a stick up your ass....no offense,” she adds hastily.

Despite myself, I can’t help cracking a small smile at the way she so bluntly puts things. Even if she did just basically call me uptight and frigid, for some reason I feel a little less tension about the whole situation. It helps I guess to have someone to joke around about these things. Things have been so intense since I started the one-on-one sessions it’s nice to have someone remind me that everything doesn’t have to be so serious all the time. 

It also doesn’t hurt when I realize that she’s not teasing me in a mean or malicious way, but like how a friend would. The thought makes me falter. I don’t have friends. I have Gale. And I have Prim. The only girl my age that I once considered something like a friend was Madge Undersee. She came from a wealthy family though and after high school she moved away to college while I stayed here and started working full time. We don’t really keep in touch anymore.

“Well I’m glad I could be so amusing to you,” I reply as Johanna leans against my desk again.

“Me too,” she grins. “I bet those sessions have gotten super awkward though, huh?” She asks, raising her eyebrows at me.

“What do you mean?” I reply, not sure what she’s getting at.

She stares back at me for a long moment and doesn’t say anything. She seems to survey my face very carefully. Finally, she asks in a disbelieving voice, “you really can’t tell?” 

“Tell what?” I demand, mad that she seems to be insinuating that I’m completely clueless about something.

“Never mind,” she insists, shaking her head. “Let’s focus on the real reason why I’m here,” she changes the subject quickly and I can’t deny that I’m curious about her sudden appearance at my work so I let the previous issue drop. 

“Yeah, why are you here?”

“Remember that free drink I got you at my bar a while back? Remember how I didn’t kick you out despite being underage?” She begins sweetly, putting on her most innocent face.

“What about it?” I humor her, although I already know where this is headed.

“Well, I’d like a favor too. You see I’m way too poor to buy a membership here, but I really love saunas and kick boxing classes and all the other amenities this wonderful establishment provides.”

“You want me to sneak you in...” I finish her thought for her.

“Hey you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours, Everdeen,” she replies, clearly pleased with herself because she can already tell I’m going to get her in. 

“Sure,” I agree and she lights up. It’s actually not that big of a deal. We let people in all the time without their membership cards who claim to have “forgotten” them at home. As long as she only comes when I’m working at the front desk it should be fine.

But I decide to go ahead and let her think I’m making a huge sacrifice for her.

“I knew I liked you, brainless,” she smiles at me and moves towards the turnstile.

I buzz her in and just as she heads towards the double doors leading towards the cardio room she calls back at me over her shoulder.

“Let’s get lunch when your shift ends!”

And suddenly Johanna Mason and I are friends.

X

After that disastrous first session I absolutely dread going back to Peeta’s office and being alone with him for a whole hour. I’m certain that he is going to ask questions he has no business asking, use what Haymitch has told him about my past to figure me out, and stop at nothing until he feels like I have really made some kind of break through or something. 

Basically all the crap that I absolutely hate about this grief counseling bullshit. 

I feel like he is one of those people that thinks things aren’t okay unless you’re smiling all the time and able to talk about your feelings. I realize that we will probably always be at odds, but because this is my only way to get Prim back I decide to bite the bullet and tough it out.   
After sitting in my car for a good 20 minutes before our second scheduled one-on-one session I finally drag myself to his office, ready to just get it over with. I’m prepared to tell him what he wants to hear, to share my feelings about how hard it was to grow up with a worthless mother while trying to take care of Prim at the same time.

I have it all planned out what I want to say to. A rehearsed line, a memorized story to give me some credibility, and maybe even a few planned moments of getting choked up. I am not about to really bare my soul to this person I don’t even know, but I know if I continue to remain silent he will inform Haymitch I’m not making progress which will hurt my chances of getting Prim back. 

But then he surprises me.

“Archery?” He asks incredulously during our first week of one-on-one sessions.

“I know, it’s weird right?”

“No, that’s awesome!” He insists. “I’ve just never really heard of someone actually doing that and being good at it,” he laughs.

“I’m okay,” I shrug.

“That’s so cool,” he murmurs, still looking surprised. “I’m too squeamish for hunting. Plus, I’d probably scare away all the animals cause I’m so heavy footed.” 

The one-on-one grief counseling sessions that are suppose to be about me dealing with the tragedy of my past suddenly turns into a get-to-know-you hour. We never talk about dying or death or any of those things that usually cause me to shut down and turn away. 

Instead we talk about everything else. 

“So that’s why you claim to be so good at making cheese buns?” I ask the following week.

“I don’t claim to be, I know I make really good cheese buns,” he returns without missing a beat. “But yeah, that’s why. My dad used to own his own bakery and he taught me everything he knew.”

“Can you do those really intricate designs on cakes and stuff?” I ask.

“It depends on how intricate,” he smiles and I ignore the flipping sensation in my stomach.

“I couldn’t draw anything to save my life,” I explain.

He shrugs. “It’s not exactly the most manliest skills: baking and painting.”

“Who cares?” I reply and he shoots me another smile that I can’t help returning.

I’m hesitant at first, curious as to what kind of game he is playing. I am just waiting for the moment when he turns a conversation about our favorite TV shows into how it relates to my father’s death, but it never comes. It feels strange to suddenly be discussing such mundane things when from the moment I met him all there’s ever been talk about is losing loved ones and trying to heal.

It feels...good. It feels easy and normal and natural to just talk to him without the pressure and discomfort of trying to examine my past and figure out how I can get better. More than anything I’m surprised that I can talk to him. Sometimes it is a struggle to even tell Gale what I’m thinking. But for some reason with him it feels right. 

“No, I swear!” Peeta insists, after nearly a month of these sessions together.

“No way, I have to meet this guy.”

“Fine, and then you’ll believe me. Finnick was THAT GUY in college. He honest to God made these girls believe he was Ryan Gosling. And like two of them ended up in his bed by the end of the night.”

I have to cover my mouth I’m laughing so hard.

“”I guess I should probably stop telling people these stories about him,” Peeta realizes. “He’s like my best friend, but when people hear these wonderful tales from our college years they assume he’s the world’s biggest pig.”

“Yeah, I wonder why they would think that,” I laugh.

Maybe because I have no choice to or maybe because I know he is legally not allowed to share anything we discuss, but I find myself talking more easily then I’ve ever had before. It makes the hour we spend together fly by and suddenly I find myself not at all dreading our sessions together. I even start to look forward to them just a bit. 

After a while I start to feel like I really know him, and vice versa, so much better than before when I had been in the group. He is no longer the person I had been assigned to for grief counseling. He is no longer the blonde hair, blue eyed boy that seemed strangely intent on helping me to get better despite my refusal.

“I mean, I don’t know if it’s something I want to pursue,” I explain, realizing we’ve been doing these one-on-one sessions for almost 6 weeks. “It’s more of just something I like to do.”

“Do you think you’ll ever let me hear you sing?” Peeta asks hopefully.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and look away. “I don’t know about having an audience,” I mumble. “The last time I sang in front of a lot of people I was 5 and it was the first day of school.”

“Okay, but what if I turn around so I’m not even looking at you,” he suggests, turning in his seat. “I’ll even put on ear muffs or something so you won’t even know if I can really even hear you,” he adds, opening up a nearby drawer and searching through his things.

I laugh as he pulls out fuzzy, bright red ear muffs and puts them on.

“Go ahead, start singing!” He shouts at me like he can’t even hear his own voice.

“Peeta!” I protest, but he just shrugs his shoulders and points to his ears, indicating that he can’t hear me.

“I’m not going to sing!” I laugh, but he just keeps gesturing for me to start, insisting that he can’t hear. 

I realize that now he is just Peeta Mellark.

And I am glad I have gotten to know him.

And I never once stop to question why, in all the time we spend talking about ourselves and our lives, I never mention Gale.

X

“Who gets fruit toppings?”

“What?” I ask defensively, adding strawberries and pineapples onto my frozen yogurt.

“It’s all about the ground up candy bars with a sprinkle of fruity pebbles,” Johanna explains, covering her frozen yogurt with toppings until it starts to overflow over the edges of her cup.

“Whatever,” I reply, placing my cup down in front of the register for it to be weighed.

Similar to how my one-on-one sessions with Peeta suddenly turned into something I was never expecting without me even realizing it, hanging out with Johanna evolved into us growing a lot closer than I ever thought possible.

She weirdly seemed to have memorized my work schedule at the gym without me even telling her and she started to show up at least 3 times a week so I could let her in the workout area. For a brief moment I started to get annoyed that she was just using me, but then she started bringing me little things like a cup of coffee on my morning shift or a candy bar during those afternoons when I needed a pick me up.

When we started to get together and actually do things outside of the gym it felt normal and comfortable. We never really talked about it, but there was an unspoken agreement between us that we...didn’t mind spending time together. That for whatever reason, we wanted to hang out together, that we found solace in each other’s company. 

I can’t really explain how much I relished having someone around that I could relate with. Not that we talked about our feelings all the time, or ever really, but Johanna and I are similar in a lot of ways. We don’t need to say a lot to share how we feel. And we both understand that sometimes people just talk to hear the sound of their own voice and it can be better to just hang out in comfortable silence.

I didn’t realize how lonely I had started to become with Prim gone and Gale always working ridiculously long hours at the law firm. If I wasn’t at work, I was at home, or I was at a session with Peeta. I realize that part of why it was so easy for me to start really talking with Peeta was because I was so starved for companionship. Johanna’s presence in my life alleviated this need even more and it was good to have a girl my age around again. I forgot what it was like to just hang out with someone for no reason who wasn’t Prim or Gale.

“$4.50 for fucking yogurt,” Johanna mutters in disgust when we finish paying.

“Well, you did kind of pile on the toppings,” I point out, taking a bite of my own.

“Who asked you brainless?” She nudges me with her hip as we slip outside the front door.

She plops down onto one of the plastic chairs at the table along the sidewalk and I join her. We sit quietly for a while, taking bites of our frozen yogurt and observing the busy street pass us by, people on the sidewalks waking their dogs or window shopping.

“So how goes the one-on-ones with blue eyes?” Johanna questions, nearly making me choke on a piece of pineapple.

“Umm...what?” I manage to splutter out. 

She laughs and has to grab a napkin to cover her mouth. “Relax woman! Jeez, I’m just curious,” she explains.

I hesitate, we’ve never discussed anything remotely related to the grief counseling sessions. Not the things I heard her talk about when I was still in the group and not why I needed to start one-on-ones with Peeta. 

I realize that the idea of sharing certain things with her doesn’t scare me half as much as I would expect it too though. She is quickly becoming a close friend after all.

“They’re fine,” I shrug, wondering how much she’ll push for more information. “What about the group sessions? What am I missing?” I ask.

“Oh, not much,” says casually, digging into her cup again. “A lot of the same. People cry, Peeta tells them it will get better. The usual,” she says flippantly, but I can’t help noticing the way she doesn’t seem to really criticize it or put it down. She has definitely changed from the cold, closed off girl I remember at my first session.

“Blondie seems to be able to focus a lot better now without you around,” she says carefully, waiting for my reaction.

It takes me a moment to process what she has just said, to realize what she’s insinuating. I immediately feel myself blush and I duck my head, trying to hide it. I decide to play dumb though.

“What are you talking about?” I mumble.

“Oh, just that he actually seems to be listening carefully now instead of looking over at you every few seconds like before...” she says.

My chest tightens a little at the thought, because what she is saying - that Peeta...has a special interest in me specifically - makes me both nervous and enlivened. I can’t help that the thought of Peeta seeing me in that way makes me feel things I’m not even sure how to process. At the same time though, it causes this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach because I know that is not something I could - or even would - entertain. 

He is my grief counselor and I’m with Gale. That’s the end of the story.

I’m just about to open my mouth to respond when I see her gaze lock on something over my shoulder and off in the distance. 

“Speak of the devil...” she says slowly, raising her eyebrows.

I follow her eyes over my shoulder and quickly look behind me, searching the busy street for what she could be talking about. It doesn’t take too long for me to spot him though and when I do my mouth goes dry.

About a block away on the opposite side of the street is Peeta. 

He is also shirtless, with headphones in his ears as he jogs in place at a cross walk.

I drink in the sight of him as he starts back into a light jog, crossing the street. He’s wearing long basketball shorts and white socks that come up well past his ankles. His chest is....amazing. Broad shoulders and perfectly defined biceps, a stomach that is the definition of washboard abs. He has those indents on his hips that create a really narrow waist and there is a trail of dark blonde hair from his belly button to where it disappears down into his shorts. 

I’m in a complete daze as I watch him continue running along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street from us. He seems totally in his own world as he maintains a steady pace, not focusing on anything except his feet hitting the pavement. Eventually he reaches the point where he’s directly across the street from us but he just keeps going, never once breaking concentration.

I can’t do anything but stare, watching as he disappears down the street, noticing how he seems to have a thousand muscles in his back. At some point I finally snap out of it and drag my attention back to Johanna who is watching me intently, clearly amused.

“Enjoying the view?” She teases, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

“Shut up,” I mutter, digging into the rest of my frozen yogurt.

X

I’m sitting at home on my couch flipping through the channels and talking to Prim on the phone. 

“She bought you clothes?” I ask my little sister in surprise.

“Well, we’re supposed to go to this fancy dinner thing for Etiquette classes and she said I didn’t have anything suitable to wear,” Prim explains casually.

I’m not sure how I feel about Effie buying my sister things, but I guess I can’t really do much about it.

“Well, that was nice of her,” I say carefully.

“Don’t worry, Katniss,” she begins, already having read my mind, “I only let her because the instructor did say we needed to wear a nice dress and I don’t fit into my old one. She has tried to buy me a whole lot of other stuff before that I don’t really need, but I told her she didn’t have to.”

“I knew I taught you well, little duck,” I tease her, finishing off the last of my pad thai.

“Hey, you’re coming up next weekend, right?” She asks suddenly. “I miss you.”

I have to pause for a moment and compose myself. My heart clenches and my stomach twists uncomfortably at her words. She is so earnest and open with her emotions sometimes it completely takes me off guard and reminds me of how much I truly do miss her too. 

I’m the person who tries to ignore those all consuming type of emotions, and the pain and heartache I’ve felt from her absence has been no exception. I try not to think about her being gone as much as I can, but when she says things like this, so open and honest and out of the blue, it’s like being punched in the gut.

“Miss you too little duck,” I manage to get out, although my voice cracks at the end. “And yeah I’ll be there.”

“Okay good. Well, I’m going to go to bed, I’ll call you tomorrow!” she announces before we say our goodbyes and I hang up. 

Just as I’m putting the phone back in it’s holder I hear the familiar sound of the front door opening. I look at the clock, surprised to see that it’s before 10:00pm and he’s already home.

“Hey you!” I greet Gale cheerfully as he comes into the living room, putting down his jacket and briefcase. “You’re home early.”

His presence is a much needed distraction after that sudden whirl of emotions from talking to Prim on the phone. 

“They finally took pity on us and let us out early for a night,” Gale explains plopping down onto the couch beside me. He leans over and kisses me and I relax into the comfort and familiarity of his lips pressed against mine.

“I was just talking to Prim,” I explain as he starts to undo his tie.

“Oh yeah, how’s she doing?” He asks while kicking off his shoes.

“Not bad...I just miss her.”

“Have you talked to her social worker about your case being brought to a judge’s attention yet?” He asks, leaning back against the couch.

“He wants me to finish at least a few month’s of the grief counseling to have something to show the judge when the time comes,” I begin to explain, but Gale cuts me off.

“Yeah, but Catnip he should at least get the process moving. Who knows how long it will actually take a judge to review your request for guardianship.”

“You’re right, I’ll say something to him,” I agree, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to see what Haymitch has to say.

Gale throws his arm around my shoulders and grabs the remote.

“I’m just assuming you want to be done with those stupid sessions as soon as possible,” he chuckles and I can’t help but to tense up at his words.

I can only manage to mumble back an unintelligible response. “It’s...I don’t...I...”

“I can seriously just picture you sitting there the entire time bored out of your mind, waiting to go home,” he adds and suddenly I feel overwhelmingly guilty that I never told him that I stopped the group sessions and now it’s just me and my not unattractive, 20-something counselor alone in a room together.

But for some reason I just can’t bring myself to discuss anything about those sessions with Gale. Not what I’ve experienced or what I’ve learned or how I’ve gotten to know Peeta so well. It almost feels as if Gale exists in a completely different world in my mind and combining these two is a horrible idea. 

So instead I just settle for curling up against his chest as he flips through the channels.

“Yeah, I can’t wait until Prim’s back,” I say and try not to think about curly blonde hair and cheese buns for the rest of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s my favorite part of the week.

It’s that time when I’m alone in my office right before my one-on-one sessions with Katniss. I attempt to get some work done, but all I keep doing is glancing over at the clock, watching it get closer and closer to 5 o’clock. My stomach twists with nerves and excitement for that moment when she’ll knock on the door and we’ll get to spend the next hour together.

I enjoy spending time with her and talking to her and hearing her laugh and seeing her smile. All these little things that make the voice in the back of my mind whisper at me in a taunting manner that my feelings are anything but innocent and hardly appropriate for our professional relationship. 

I know I have feelings for her. It’s pretty fucking hard to deny it when I find myself grinning like an idiot at just the memory of a conversation we’ve shared or something specific she did. It’s hard not to, if I’m being fair. I’ve felt something for her since the moment we met. And since I’ve actually gotten to know her over the past couple of months it’s only gotten stronger. She’s kind, funny, honest, genuine...the list goes on. 

And of course, she’s beautiful. The kind of gorgeous that is effortless, classic and natural. I feel like I’ve memorized every detail about her, the exact shade of grey of her eyes, the pattern of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and the dimples that appear when she smiles. I’ve also had to chide myself more than once for noticing the dip of her cleavage or the curve of her behind during our sessions.

But none of that matters.

It doesn’t matter because I made the decision to push all those feelings down and just try and forget about how she makes me feel. I have to ignore whatever this pull is I feel towards her and focus on doing my job. I made the decision that if given the choice, I want to help Katniss get better more than anything, more than pursuing my own selfish wants, and I want her to get better so she can get her sister back. 

I started by doing what I thought might be the only way to get through to her. I completely backed off all talk about her deceased parents and let her set the tone and conversation for our sessions. I knew Katniss was never going to start really talking about the things that she had buried away a long time ago if she didn’t feel comfortable. I wanted her to stop seeing me as a grief counselor and more as a friend. 

It’s been amazing getting to know her these past several weeks. She’s opened up to me more than I ever really thought possible. Nothing too heavy obviously, but I feel like we’re actually friends now. We know more than just the superficial details about one another and this level of trust and intimacy gives me faith that maybe she won’t fight so hard against going a little deeper.

That’s the hope anyway, and today I plan on putting that theory to the test.

I’m startled from my thoughts when I hear her knock lightly on my office door.

I look up and smile as she lets herself in, closing the door behind her and taking her usual seat on the small couch like always. She starts talking a mile a minute about how she’s sorry she is late but she had to grab something to eat on the way over because she hasn’t eaten anything all day. 

I fight the smile when I realize it’s only a couple of minutes past 5 and that hardly qualifies as being late. 

She is saying something about cheese buns and grinning at me with that smile that makes my heart beat speed up when I realize I’m not doing a good job paying attention. I’m so preoccupied and worried about how I’m going to bring up the new, less easy, topics of conversation for our session, that I got lost in my own thoughts for a moment.

“What?” I ask her to clarify.

She laughs and I swear that smile does things to me.

“I said....” she feigns annoyance at having to repeat herself, “I’m still waiting to try those cheese buns, Mellark.”

“Alright, well I have a proposition for you,” I begin, feeling like this might be my best chance to bring it up. “I’ll bring you a baker’s dozen of cheese buns at our next session if you go along with what I have planned for today.”

I see her hesitate and mentally pull back, looking very unsure all of the sudden. “Umm...okay, I guess,” she begrudgingly agrees and I’m glad all hope hasn’t been lost just yet. 

“What do you have planned?” She asks nervously, trying to laugh a little to play it off like she doesn’t really care.

“Okay, so the thing is...” I pause, feeling my insides twist uncomfortably. I hate this internal battle I have going on right now. I hate how part of me is determined to do the right thing and actually act like her grief counselor, and the other part wants nothing more than to just keep seeing her smile at me rather than bring up things that might cause her to bolt from the room.

“The thing is we both know why we’re here...” I finally manage to get out and I see her face fall almost immediately. I can see the alarms going off behind her eyes, but I press forward, desperate to get out everything I need to say before she shuts me down. “I’m your grief counselor and I really want to help you. I want to give Haymitch weekly updates that convince him we’re actually doing what we’re suppose to instead of just talking about whatever we want.”

“Well, I’m sorry if talking to me is so annoying,” she snaps defensively and I cringe, already hating how this is going.

“It’s not like that at all and you know it, Katniss,” I reply as calmly and as gently as I can.

My tone seems to placate her and I see her deflate a little, still upset but not as angry.

“I just don’t want to keep avoiding the elephant in the room. Don’t get me wrong though, I’m really glad I’ve gotten to know you better. I consider you a friend and I hope you can say the same for me.” 

She avoids my eyes and sinks back into the couch. I’m encouraged that at least she hasn’t left yet.

“We can take it slow. I don’t expect you to work through everything in a day, not even in a month. I just want us to at least approach the topic. We have to at least acknowledge it because it’s not like it’s going away. I want to help you, Katniss. I want to help you get your sister back.” 

I watch as she plays with a loose thread at the hem of her cardigan, not saying anything in response, not even acknowledging that I just spoke. I wait with baited breath, wondering if I should give her more time or try and push her a little more.

Finally, she mumbles something so quietly I have to lean in to catch it. “So what...where do we...”

She trails off and it takes me a moment to realize that she’s asking how we get started, that she is actually waiting for me to continue. I jump at the realization, amazed that she hasn’t fled or completely shut down. 

“Well, that’s the thing,” I start to explain, “it’s completely up to you. I only want you to tell me what you feel comfortable talking about. Don’t feel pressured to talk about anything that you’re not ready to yet.”

She looks at me curiously, her eyebrows pinched together in concentration. The lines on her forehead that appear and the way her nose crinkles makes me bite back a grin because she looks so damn cute.

You’re not allowed to think she’s cute, a nasty voice reminds me.

“So, like just tell me about your dad, what did he do, what are your favorite memories of him,” I begin, trying to put her at ease and make sure she understands this really doesn’t have to be the terrifying task I’m sure she’s thinking it will be. 

After a moment she finally takes a deep breath and looks up at me. I have to compose myself when I see all the emotion playing out in her eyes, the fear, the sadness, the uncertainty. Seeing her hurt pulls at my heart strings more than makes sense. 

“I...I’m not sure...” her voice is shaky and all I want to do is take her in my arms and comfort her.

But I don’t. Because I can’t. And I shouldn’t.

Instead, I give her some time and let her work through it on her own.

Finally, she manages to say something that catches me completely off guard. “Will you...can you come sit next to me?” She asks, biting her bottom lip nervously.

At first I’m almost too stunned to respond, but then I quickly recover.

“Um yah sure, of course,” I reply, getting out of my usual chair across from the couch and moving to sit beside her. I put enough space between us to not cross any boundaries, but so she still knows I’m here to support her. 

“I just...” she starts playing with her hands again anxiously, “I just feel like it will be easier to talk about this stuff if it feels like you’re my friend sitting next to me, not my counselor sitting across from me and analyzing everything I say.”

“Makes sense,” I offer her a warm smile and for the first time since I brought up actually dealing with the issues she seems to relax a little. I see the tension leave her shoulders and when she starts talking I know I’ve done something down right incredible.

I’ve earned her trust.

“My dad was my whole world. We used to go camping together. That’s where I learned to use a bow and arrow. I even looked like him too. My sister favored my mother, but I was definitely my father’s daughter.”

She stops and I realize she’s trying to compose herself enough to keep talking. I have to fight the urge to reach out and touch her, to reach out and comfort her. 

“I got his olive skin, his dark hair, even his singing voice,” she laughs a little but there’s no humor in her voice. It’s sad and a little hollow. The thought makes my heart ache. 

“It was just like...everything made sense when he was around, you know?” She finally looks over at me and I can see the tears gathering in her eyes.

“When he was around I knew my place and I knew what to do and I didn’t ever have to worry about anything. He was my everything,” her voice catches and she quickly covers her face, hiding away the tears that I’m sure have fallen.

She composes herself quickly, hastily wiping the tears away as she pushes back against the wave of emotion that briefly overtook her.

“I just really miss him, sometimes,” she says and her voice is so small and the pain is so clear on her face I realize that I actually hate that I did this to her. And the fact that I do makes me seriously question my ability to continue being her grief counselor.

I quickly push those thoughts aside though. I’ll suck it up and stay professional as long as it means that I get to keep seeing her, that she doesn’t just disappear from my life.

“I’m sure you do,” I say softly, “he sounds like a great man.”

She smiles back at me sadly and I realize I need to keep her talking about her dad, but without the threat of her breaking down. “So tell me about these camping trips,” I ask her. “How old were you when you made your first kill? Any incidents involving bears?”

She lets out a surprised laugh and the sound is like music to my ears. 

She starts to tell me about how her dad tried to get her to fish but she just didn’t have the patience for it. She tells me about how she would climb trees and look for animals. And how she and her dad worked out a silent method of communication so she could point him in the direction of game even from high up in the tree.

She tells me about the time she climbed way higher than normal to try and get some fresh eggs from a nest. And how she fell and broke her wrist. And how her dad carried her almost 2 miles back to the campsite and their car even though she could walk just fine. 

A little light comes on in her eyes as she recalls the memory of her dad driving her to the ER and fussing over her and worrying about what her mother would say. She laughs when she tells me that her mom was horrified when she came home with her pink cast. She says her dad always had such an affect on her mother that he was able to make her be not as upset over it by the end of the night.

“Pink?” I ask, scrunching up my nose in mock disgust. “I never would have pegged you as a ‘pink’ kind of girl.”

Her face goes deadly serious. “It was the only color they had left!” She protests in anger and I can’t help but laugh seeing her get worked up over this.

“Trust me, I hated it with a passion,” she explains. 

“If you say so,” I tease and after a moment I realize we’re just looking at each other with small smiles, the room having fallen into silence. 

Suddenly, there is that tension in the air again.

That thing I’ve felt between us a couple of times before. Before I can stop myself or analyze what I’m doing I reach out and place my hand on top of hers, the one that is lying on the couch in the space between us. 

This might not be the most professional thing in the world, but even if I’m not going to act on my feelings for her, she is still my friend and I’m going to act differently around her regardless.

She doesn’t pull away and I don’t regret doing it. Her hand is soft and warm and is easily covered by my larger one. 

I suddenly have to fight off the intense desire to bring her hand up to my lips, to take her hand and pull her closer, to intertwine our fingers and stay like that for the rest of the time. More than anything, I’m struck by how right this feels, how my entire body seems to come alive from just the feel of her. 

She takes a deep breath and I see her biting down on her bottom lip, trying to suppress a genuine smile. 

The thought makes me grin.

“Thanks for telling me about him,” I whisper. 

“Thanks for listening,” she replies without missing a beat.

X

“Shots on me, bitches!”

Delly loudly announces she’ll be buying the first round tonight. I throw an arm around her appreciatively and order a shot of whiskey from the bartender with the red hair and a face like a fox. Before she can move away to fill our order though Finnick quickly speaks up.

“Nothing for me,” he says quickly, looking flustered, “thanks though.”

Delly and I exchange a look of confusion before turning our attention to Finn. We both kind of just stare at him in disbelief for a moment, waiting for him to elaborate on why he’s not drinking tonight.

It’s not totally out of the norm for one of us not to drink. There are plenty of times when we go out where one of us just doesn’t feel like drinking. It’s just that it is a Friday night and we actually haven’t been out together in a while and Annie is meeting us here and you would think he’d want something to calm his nerves.

He keeps fidgeting with his jacket and pulling the sleeves of his shirt down to his wrists underneath. His hands move to fix his perfectly styled hair more than once and he not so discretely checks how his breath smells.

Finally, he realizes we’re looking at him. 

“What?” He asks defensively.

“Why are you so uptight?” Delly asks, genuinely perplexed.

“Yeah, why don’t you have a shot and loosen up,” I suggest.

He quickly shakes off our suggestion and smooths out non-existent wrinkles on his button down shirt.

“Nope,” he replies simply, “not tonight. I want to be at the top of my game. Can’t have alcohol clouding my judgment.”

Delly raises her eyebrows at him in disbelief. I’m too stunned for a moment to say anything.

“Holy crap, you have got it bad, Odair,” Delly announces as the bartender returns with our shots. “I’ve never seen you like this. I was still half convinced you just wanted to bang Annie, but I guess I was wrong.”

Finnick shrugs, “I told you I liked her,” he says simply.

“Well, damn,” I say, grabbing my shot and handing Delly hers, “to Finnick Odair finally taking something in his life serious for once,” I announce and Finn roles his eyes at me.

“I’ll drink to that,” Delly laughs and we clink our small glasses together and toss back the small liquid that burns as it goes down my throat.

“I’m glad I can be so entertaining to you guys,” Finnick says before his eyes move past me and over my shoulder.

I turn around and catch sight of Annie making her way towards us through the crowd. She is wearing a dark blue dress with a floral pattern that looks perfect against her fair skin. The dress clinches at her waist and ends a decent height above her knees. She has a black leather jacket that matches Finn’s, rolled up to her elbows, and black boots that adds about two inches to her height.

I break into a huge smile as she finally reaches us, making sure I’m the first one to hug her. Annie has easily become one of my favorite people I’ve ever worked with. I can tell that she gets a little better every day, even if she doesn’t say anything or nothing big happens. She just looks better every time I see her - happier, more confident, and just overall lighter, like she’s slowly letting go of everything that has held her back before.

“Hey Peeta,” she whispers in my ear as we embrace.

“Hey Annie,” I return as we pull back. “You look great,” I tell her honestly, “I think you’re going to make Finnick pass out though,” I tease.

She rolls her eyes at me, but I see a hint of blush appear on her cheeks at my words. When I pull away she embraces Delly and they quickly start chatting about something from work. I look over at Finn and find that he hasn’t moved an inch, seemingly frozen in place.

He’s staring at Annie like she’s burning brighter than the sun and I can’t help but laugh at the sight a little. I move towards him and put my hand on his shoulder. He jumps at my touch, swallowing thickly, but not tearing his eyes away from Annie who is still in conversation with Delly.

“I am in way too deep,” Finnick mumbles and I can hear the desperation in his voice. 

“Congrats, on being a grown up,” I tell him, “you’ve left your playboy days behind and are now experiencing what we like to call feelings,” I explain.

“Is it always this...overwhelming?” He asks and the question catches me off guard for a moment. I wasn’t expecting him to be so vulnerable or honest about how he feels. 

I automatically think of Katniss, how sometimes just her smile is enough to send my mind reeling, my heart pounding and my stomach turning. 

“Yup...if you’re lucky,” I finally answer truthfully.

Later on in the night the four of us are gathered around our own table that we found in the corner. Delly and I are on our second drinks while Annie is still nursing her first. Finnick is still adamant about being sober tonight though.

I’ve noticed Finn has been unusually quiet and shy tonight. Obviously he’s not drinking which usually loosens his tongue, but it almost feels like there’s more to it. Annie is pretty shy herself and the pair have only had a couple of exchanges since she got here.

I realize they may need a push in the right direction and that maybe this ‘group hang’ idea that Delly came up with only works up to a certain point. “Hey Dell, come with me to get another drink,” I say, standing up from my chair and trying to make a quick getaway.

I see Delly's eyes widen momentarily, and she quickly looks over to Finnick and Annie, who are suddenly unable to make eye contact with anyone, much less each other. “Oh, okay, sure,” Delly agrees, getting up to follow me as we make our way over to the bar.

When we’re far enough away from the pair she mutters, “Smooth Mellark.”

“You got a better idea?” I challenge her.

We make our way to the far end of the bar where there’s more open space to actually get close enough to order our drinks. I figure it’s better if it actually takes us a while to get our drinks since that will give Finn and Annie more time alone together. 

My eyes start to scan the crowd when I see something that makes my stomach drop.

Katniss.

Katniss with another guy.

Katniss with another guy who has his arm around her waist.

My heart starts pounding in my chest, making everything else around me fade away. All I can see and think and focus on is the vision in front of me. Her body is pressed into his side, but she has two hands on her drink that she is sipping through a straw.

The guy is tall and handsome and looks like he could be her brother because they have the same hair color and the same olive skin. I know that’s not the case though. I know because of the way he holds her against him, his hand resting on her hip, the kiss he presses to her temple.

It’s like my blood goes cold and everything around me falls to pieces. I don’t know what to do. My stomach is twisted into knots and I have this horrible, agonizing feeling in my chest like my whole world has shattered in front of my very eyes. 

“Peeta!” I finally snap out of whatever trance I had been in when I hear Delly practically scream at me. 

I start and turn to face her, looking at her like I forgot she was even there, which if I’m being honest about, I had.

“I asked you what you wanted,” she says, clearly confused by my behavior. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh nothing,” I quickly assure her, determined to get my bearings back. “Order me a Jack and Coke, I’ll be right back. I saw someone I know.”

I shove a 20 dollar bill in her hand and she simply nods in agreement before I move past her. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m actually walking towards her, towards them. For some reason my body has decided to completely ignore every rational thought about how this is a horrible idea and how this is going to suck and just make everything so much worse. 

Before I know it I’m a couple of feet away from Katniss...and him.

Katniss catches my eye and goes deathly pale, looking like she’s just seen a ghost. She lowers her drink and her mouth hangs open, her eyes widening with uncertainty and what looks like fear.

For some reason seeing her look as uncomfortable as I feel snaps me out of it. I regain my composure and move forward, putting on my best, although insincere, smile.

“Hey Katniss, good to see you.”

She doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare back at me with that completely stunned look on her face. 

“Well, damn Sunshine, don’t I get a hello?”

It takes me a moment to realize that the dark-haired girl who they had been talking to and who had her back facing me this entire time is actually Johanna from group therapy.

“Johanna!” I exclaim, genuinely happy to see her. I pull her into a hug which I think catches her off guard by the way she tenses up and doesn’t really hug me back. I don’t care though because seeing her has put me at ease in the middle of this ridiculously awkward situation.

“You’re awfully friendly. Are you drunk?” Johanna questions and I burst out laughing.

“Can’t I just say hi?” I ask her and she shrugs like she doesn’t really care either way. 

I look back to Katniss who still hasn’t said anything. I finally meet eyes with the guy at her side who is looking back and forth between the two of us, clearly waiting to see if Katniss will do the introducing.

After a moment, when it becomes clear that Katniss is still tongue tied, the guy wipes his hand on his shirt and then offers it to me. “Hey man, I’m Gale...the boyfriend,” he adds with a little laugh. I shake his hand trying to force a smile even though what he just confirmed makes the hollow feeling in my chest grow.

“Nice to meet you,” I return, trying to keep my voice even. “I’m Peeta. I’ve been working with Katniss in grief counseling,” I explain and Gale raises his eyebrows as if this is news to him. 

Well, good. At least she didn’t tell him about me either.

We both look over to Katniss who is staring at the floor with no apparent interest in joining the conversation.

After an awkward moment of silence Gale finally clears his throat and looks over at me with a small smile. “Uh sorry. Catnip isn’t the biggest talker,” he laughs a little uncomfortably.

Catnip?

“But I guess you would know that as much anyone,” he adds with another little laugh. 

I look over at Katniss who raises her eyes to meet mine. We share a look and I know she’s thinking about what I’m thinking about. She’s thinking about every one-on-one session we’ve had over the past several weeks where all we did was talk.

Finally, this seems to snap Katniss out of it.

“Um sorry,” she manages, “I’m just surprised to see you here is all.”

Before I can respond I hear my name being called. I look over my shoulder and see Delly with two drinks in her hands, fighting through the crowd to get back towards the general direction of our table and motioning for me to join her.

“No worries, I’ll catch up with you guys later. I have to get back over to my friends,” I say, putting a hand on Johanna’s shoulder. “It was nice meeting you,” I tell Gale who returns the sentiment. 

It might be my imagination, but I think I see Katniss’ face fall a little as she sees Delly approach and hand me my drink.

“Find me later, Sunshine and I’ll buy you another drink,” Johanna says with a wink and I can’t help but chuckle as I turn to leave with Delly.

As much as I’m tempted to look back over my shoulder at Katniss as I walk away with Delly, I somehow manage to hold onto whatever pride I have and fight the temptation. As we emerge through the crowd we find ourselves back at our table.

I’m greeted with the sight of Finnick and Annie sharing a conversation, both of them smiling and laughing and nodding along with comfortable ease. The knot in my chest that has been present since I saw Katniss loosens a little and I can genuinely say I’m glad to see my best friend happy and seemingly getting somewhere with the girl he likes. 

One of us should be able to.

Finnick and Annie’s conversation breaks off as Delly and I join them at the table, although their smiles remain.

“So Delly, did you know Annie was a swimmer in high school just like me?” Finnick asks the blonde to his right.

Delly raises her eyebrows in surprise, although I’m not sure if it’s the news of Annie’s former extracurriculars or the knowledge that Finn actually seems to be handling himself pretty well, that takes her off guard. The fact that our Finnick, the guy who can get a girl’s underwear off using just his words, is actually carrying on such a normal date-like conversation is a new concept for the both of us.

“Yeah, we actually swam all the same events,” Annie adds, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. I notice the way her cheeks are flush and her drink is empty. She seems like she’s struggling to hold back a really big smile.

“So you’re both water children,” Delly comments, nodding her head with interest. 

My eyes drift across the room where I see a pool table opening up for play. I quickly jump at the opportunity. “Hey, let’s go play pool,” I announce, jumping out of my seat without waiting for their response and making my way over to the table before anyone else can grab it.

I start pulling all of the balls from the pockets and placing them in the triangular rack. By the time I have the balls all set up Delly, Finn, and Annie have finally joined me. I grab two pool sticks and look around for two more, but all the other ones are currently being used. 

Delly is still sipping from her drink looking bored while Finn and Annie have reverted back to being quiet and shy around each other like they were at the beginning of the night. Finn has his hands stuffed in his pockets, sneaking glances over at Annie who is leaning against the edge of the table pretending to be enthralled with the set up.

I walk over to the pair of them. “Here, you guys play,” I tell them, handing each of them a stick. They look a little surprised at first, quickly sneaking a glance at each other before looking away.

“What about you guys?” Finnick asks.

“There’s not enough sticks. It’s fine,” I assure him. “Delly and I will take next game. We’ll be over at the pinball machine until your done.”

Finnick nods in agreement and when Annie looks over at him they share a nervous laugh.

“You ready?” The dark-haired girl challenges him.

I see Finn hesitate for just a moment, something in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Finally, he breaks out his most charming smile. “I’m always ready,” he replies confidently.

I walk past them, feeling like I’m about to suffocate from the sexual tension in the air. I’m happy for Finn and everything, but now I just feel like hanging around these two is like wearing a sign around your neck that reads ‘third wheel’. 

I grab Delly by her elbow and steer her away from them. “What are we doing?” She asks, confused, but still sipping from her drink.

“Meet me over by the pinball machine,” I instruct her. “I’m going to go get some quarters from the bar.” She shrugs and we part ways. 

I find a spot near the cash register figuring this is going to be my best chance to get change. As I look down along the length of the bar and spot the red headed bartender trying to serve drinks to about 20 people at once I realize this is going to take a while. I sigh, standing up little taller and searching for Delly over near the pinball machine. Apparently though she seems to have migrated over to the fussball table nearby and is currently chatting with a tall, dark-haired guy.

Well good, at least she won’t mind my extended absence.

“Hey.”

I freeze when I hear that voice. I know that voice.

Katniss moves up to the bar next to me, her shoulder brushing my own. 

“Hey,” I try and say as calmly as I can manage despite my heart starting to hammer in my chest.

“Another drink?” She questions curiously.

“Nah, change for the pinball machine,” I explain and feel my stomach flip when she gives me a crooked smile and bites down into her full bottom lip.

“You?” 

“I’m getting water believe it or not,” she replies with a pretend look of superiority. 

“So basically we’re both going to be waiting here forever,” I say, turning my body so I can face her while still leaning against the edge of the bar.

“Pretty much,” she agrees with a laugh.

“You come here often?” I ask, letting my silent question hang in the air. I know she’s not 21. She knows that I know she’s not 21.

“Sometimes,” she shrugs with a challenging look in her eyes. “Do you have a problem with it? With me being here?”

Something about the way she leans in towards me, suddenly all feisty and attempting to be intimidating has my fingers itching to just reach out and pull her against me. 

I feel my cock twitch in response. 

I take slow, deep breaths to calm myself down. I notice the silly grin she’s wearing and the way her eyes are a little glazed over and realize she’s probably had more than a couple of drinks tonight.

“Not at all,” I respond evenly. “I didn’t know you and Johanna were friends now,” I add.

“Yeah...” Katniss trails off, “I like her. We get along.”

“It was nice to meet the boyfriend too.”

I don’t where those words just came from. I certainly wasn’t planning on saying them, on mentioning him. I didn’t want to bring him up and ruin this moment alone with her but apparently I’ve had my share of alcohol tonight as well and it was all too easy to let the words slip out, to challenge to her, wondering how she will respond. 

She holds my gaze for a long moment, not saying anything, almost like she is searching my eyes for something behind the cryptic statement.

When she still hasn’t said anything after a long moment of silence I speak up again, surprising myself as much as anyone.

“Were you ever going to bring him up at our sessions?”

She looks at a loss for words, her mouth slightly ajar as she struggles to form a response. Her brows are pinched together and her nose is scrunched up in that look of uncertainty I’ve come to recognize in her.

“Why do you care?”’ She finally responds.

When I look at her, the way she raises her eyebrows and her nostrils flare I realize she’s getting a little worked up right now. I realize that this whole damn conversation is a result of the drinks we’ve consumed tonight because neither one of us would be talking about this....topic....with such a fire if it wasn’t for our current states of inebriation. 

The thought of her getting worked up resonates in my groin and I quickly shake my head to clear it.

“Just thought he’d be a pretty big part of your life. Something you might have thought to mention over the past several weeks,” I try and explain calmly. 

And now that I am thinking about it I realize there is something odd about her never mentioning him before. I’ve been so worked up about how Gale affects the part of me that has feelings for her that I didn’t stop to realize how Gale affects that part of me that is supposed to be helping her.

Clearly, something isn’t right if she never once so much as mentioned him in all the time we’ve been together. Katniss hasn’t been in the best place since I met her and knowing that she’s had a boyfriend, presumably this whole time, makes me question the kind of relationship they have. It makes me question whether she’s getting, or has ever gotten, the kind of emotional support and love she should be getting from a boyfriend.

“It’s not like...that...” She manages to stutter out, not meeting my eyes and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“So what’s it like?” I ask, wishing I would just shut up already.

To my surprise though she answers, lifting her eyes to meet mine. “I just....I just want to keep that part of my life separate from...this part of my life,” she finishes, waving her hand between the pair of us to indicate what she’s talking about.

And I realize in that moment that I’m in way too deep with this girl because I don’t even stop to consider that what she just said is a serious red flag about her relationship and her emotional well being. All I can manage to feel is happy that she seems to feel that there is something special between us, whatever it is, that I’m not the only one who feels it.

Instead of responding I catch sight of another bartender coming from the back room to help out with the crowd. I call out and get her attention right away. “Hey, can we just get a couple of waters!”

She nods and quickly brings out a few clean glasses from under the bar and begins filling them up. “And some quarters if you don’t mind,” I add hastily and she shoots me an annoyed look that she doesn’t really attempt to conceal.

When she empties the coins into my hand I stuff them into my pocket. Katniss picks up the two glasses of water and turns to me, biting her lip nervously. We both kind of just linger for a moment, both knowing that we could leave now and get back to our respective groups, but for some reason not wanting to just yet.

“I’m sorry,” I finally breathe out. “I shouldn’t have brought up any of...that...here. It’s hardly the time or the place.”

She shrugs, “It’s okay. I’m glad we talked.”

I feel my stomach tightening into that familiar knot again. Only this time it’s because I don’t want to see her go. I don’t want to part ways with her. 

I nod my head at her dumbly, apparently at a complete loss for words.

“I’ll see you Monday,” she says and for a moment I think I see her hesitate. I even think I see her flinch, like she was contemplating moving closer to me. 

She quickly shakes off the moment of indecision though and moves away, leaving me with a sad smile. “Bye Peeta.”

When I finally fight through the crowd to get over to meet Delly at the pinball machines I see her talking to the same guy I saw her with earlier. The moment she catches sight of me though she moves away from the guy quickly, coming over to me and throwing her arms around her neck.

When she pulls back she kisses me on the cheek and then whispers into my ear, “Sorry, this guy turned into a total creep so I told him you were my boyfriend.”

I laugh when she pulls away and wrap my arm around her waist.

“If I was your boyfriend I’d be so not stoked at you talking to that dude when I was off getting us quarters to play pinball.”

Delly shrugs as we move away from the guy and towards the pinball machine. I shoot the guy a reproachful gaze for good measure. 

She leans against the machine as I insert 50 cents and start playing.

“I mean, he was hot enough...but he was as dumb as a rock. And he didn’t even like pretend that he was interested in anything other than getting in my pants.”

I laugh as I pull back the lever and release another ball into the game. I knew I could count on Delly to take my mind off of that conversation I just had at the bar.

“Alright, your turn,” I announce, when my game ends.

She waves me off. “I don’t even really want to play.”

She either completely misses or ignores the exasperated look of annoyance I give her considering how long I waited for those damn quarters.

“Let’s go check on our little love birds,” she announces, looping her arm through mine and moving us over to the pool tables.

We get about half way there when we spot them. Finn and Annie are still playing with only a couple of balls still left on the table. We stop and just watch them for a while, noticing how comfortable they are around each other now. The way Annie seems to laugh at everything he does. The way Finn looks at her like she hung the moon.

When Finnick walks up beside her I prepare myself for some really corny scene where he wraps his arms around her and tries to show her how to shoot properly. I anticipate the impending implosion that would come as a result because Annie has proven before she is not one to be swooned by Finn’s charms or advances. 

Instead though, he leans down next her and seems to be indicating how to hit a particularly tricky shot. He reaches over and positions her hand that’s holding the stick in place but that’s as far as he goes. 

I can’t help the smile that appears at the sight of my best friend growing up before my very eyes. I see Delly at my side cover her mouth and make an ‘aw’ sound.

When Annie leans down and takes the shot it lands in the corner pocket and she jumps up and down enthusiastically. When she flings herself against Finnick and wraps her arms around his neck I see the look of complete and utter shock on his face, unsure of what to do. 

Finn hugs her back briefly and when they separate they’re both bumbling, blushing messes that can barely look at one another.

“Ugh, they’re so cute I’m going to puke,” Delly says, grabbing my arm and leading me away again. “Guess we should let them be,” she announces as we find an empty table.

After a moment of silence, Delly speaks up again. “Hey Peeta...” she says casually.

“Yeah?”

“Who’s that girl with dark hair looking at me like she wants to cut me?”

My head snaps up and I quickly look over in the direction she’s indicating. I catch a glimpse of Katniss over at a table across the way with Gale and Johanna. She quickly ducks her head when she sees me looking though and pretends not to have noticed my gaze.

“Uh...that’s Katniss..” I explain, trailing off as I turn back to Delly. “I work with her in grief counseling.”

“Uh huh...and is there a reason Katniss looks like she hates me?” Delly asks calmly.

“She doesn’t hate you,” I respond immediately.

“Um excuse me,” Delly protests, “you haven’t noticed until just now, but she has been eyeing me like I’m a particularly unpleasant rodent since you came back from getting quarters. I noticed when I kissed you on the cheek and then as we were walking over to the pool tables. I thought maybe she was a former jilted lover of yours or something. You know, some one night stand who you banged into oblivion and then never called again. It would explain the look of hate in her eyes directed toward me. I’m sure she’s assuming we’re boning or something.”

A sudden feeling of panic goes through me. I look over at Katniss again but she is going out of her way to make sure she’s not looking in our direction, turning her entire body in her seat so her back faces us. I’m scared all of the sudden that maybe Katniss thinks there IS something going on between me and Delly. 

I think of how I basically reprimanded her for not mentioning Gale and how now it looks like I’ve done the same thing, kept my personal life from her. I have to fight the urge to go over to her right away and explain that Delly is just my friend. The small stubborn part of me immediately shoots that idea down though because I don’t have to explain myself and what difference would it make? She’s with Gale and I already chose not to go down that road anyway.

But in a different world, a different set of circumstances, I would go down that road in a heartbeat.

I stare at Delly like she’s crazy. “She doesn’t hate you,” I repeat.

“Well, she doesn’t seem to be my biggest fan,” she returns. “And I’m sensing this is a sensitive topic for you Peeta. Anything you want to share?”

I immediately feel my face heat up and I avoid her gaze. Fuck. Delly can read me like a book.

“No.”

“Well, that’s an obvious yes,” She laughs. “I think she has the hots for you. Trust me, I saw it in her eyes. Those were the eyes of passion,” she says the last word in a whisper, attempting to be serious. 

“Shut up,” I laugh, shoving her in the arm playfully.

Before our conversation can continue Annie and Finnick finally make their way over to our table having finished their game of pool. I’m glad not to have to deal with Delly’s theories about Katniss for the rest of the night.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t let my eyes wander across the room to her table just to catch a glimpse of her smile every once in a while.

And more than once I catch her looking my way too.

X

At the next one-on-one session I have with Katniss neither one of us brings up the bar. I don’t ask her about Gale and she never mentions him either. It’s like it never happened.

I don’t really have much of a problem with that.

She does, however, continue to tell me more about her dad. 

She tells me how he was a gifted singer.

She tells me that he always told her that she could do anything she wanted. 

She tells me that he and her mother were head over heels in love with each other.

When I ask about her mom though she is a lot less forthcoming. I wonder if her silence about the woman is less about an inability to talk about her and more about a lack of things to say. Her feelings on the woman seem to be conflicted and complex. All she really tells me is that the woman basically fell apart after her father died. I can see in her eyes a heavy mix of anger, love, and bitterness when she talks about the woman with nothing but curt, simple statements.

I decide to leave that topic alone and continue to try and get her to open up about her father, since talking about him seems to be so much easier for her.

She can talk about her childhood and her favorite memories of him with ease, smiling and laughing as she tells me about him, but the questions I ask that fall on death ears all seem to have a similar theme.

“How did you handle the news about his passing?”

“What was it like adjusting to him not being around anymore?”

“Did you act out or internalize your grief?”

Anytime I even so much as mention his death or try and ask her about what it was like for her after his passing she completely shut downs. I realize this is the hardest thing in the world for her because it’s making her face the pain of losing the most important person in her life head on. Something she probably never really did after it happened.

“Will you do something for me?” I ask her near the end of one of our sessions, coming to sit beside her on the couch since I know it makes her feel more at ease.

“Depends,” she says after a moment, looking at me curiously.

“Will you try writing down everything you don’t think you can say?”

Her mouth falls open just slightly and I see the look of surprise and genuine interest at my unusual request. 

“I just...I want you to get it off your chest, I want you to have some sort of outlet, some way to express yourself and handle everything you feel when it comes to your dad’s death,” I explain, speaking slowly and quietly. “It will probably be a hell of a lot easier than trying to tell me about it. And I’m not the person that needs to hear it anyway. I think you owe it to yourself to face the grief you were probably too young to understand or handle when it happened.”

I chance a look over at her and see her swallow thickly before averting her gaze to her hands in her lap. 

I reach over and put my hand on top of hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Despite the intimacy of this gesture I mean it as nothing more than an indication of the support I want to show her. She looks up and gives me half a smile. I can tell the idea makes her nervous and scared.

“The thing I’ve learned about grief Katniss, is that unless you let it run its course...unless you let it consume you and completely break you down until you have no choice but to put yourself back together...than you’ll never truly be okay again. You’ll always be holding on to the pain.”

At our next session she shows up with a small notebook. 

When she comes into the room she throws her arms around me in a hug.

I’m completely blown away at first, holding my hands awkwardly at her side, unsure where to put them. We’ve never embraced like this before and I suddenly think back to the deer in the headlights look Finnick wore when Annie hugged him at the bar after their game of pool.

The feel of her warm body pressed up against my own makes my head start to swim, it makes everything inside me start to heat up. Luckily, I manage to recover quickly enough to hug her back briefly before we both pull away.

“What was that for?” I ask with a laugh.

“I did it,” she says with a smile, although I think I can see her eyes glisten with tears.

“You did it?” I respond with a grin.

“I know, I can’t believe it either,” she laughs and then tugs on my hand and pulls me down to the couch.

“It was just like...once I got started I couldn’t stop,” she says, flipping through what looks like at least half of the notebook filled with her handwriting front and back.

She tells me that at first she had no idea what to write. That she sat and stared at the blank sheet of paper for hours before anything came. And then instead of trying to write a journal entry about her dad she decided to write him a letter.

She starts off saying how much she misses him.

She tells him things just don’t feel the same without him.

She says that she still remembers everything he ever taught her.

When she starts to talk about how she feels broken without him around anymore her voice begins to tremble. She tells him that all she has wanted to do since he died is to tune the world out, to harden herself in an effort not to get hurt ever again. She says she knows he wouldn’t want her to do that and the tears start to swim in her eyes.

As the topic of her mother comes up she starts to choke on her words, the tears falling down her cheeks. 

I do nothing, but listen. I’m paralyzed by how this girl is baring her soul to me, afraid to do anything to mess that up.

“She was never the same,” she gasps, reading from notebook, her face wet with tears. “She loved you so much and when you died you broke her. That’s what you did. You made people love you so much they can’t handle this world without you in it.”

At these words she completely loses it. She breaks down, collapsing into a sobbing, heaving mess.

I reach out and put a hand on her shoulder and she immediately turns into me, throwing her arms around my neck, pressing her face against my chest.

I rub her back up and down soothingly, pressing her against me and letting her get it all out. I can feel her tears dampen the front of my shirt but I couldn’t care less. All I care about is being here for her in this moment, comforting her through the pain.

She cries for a long time and I don’t do anything other than hold her, letting her know it’s all right. It’s like she has never let herself feel this kind of raw pain before and now that she has opened the door the entire dam has broke. 

Eventually her sobs quiet down and her body stops shuddering.

When she pulls away to look at me I reach out and wipe the wetness from her cheek with the pad of my thumb without hesitating. 

She closes her eyes and leans into the touch.

“Thank you,” she whispers. 

I swallow the lump in my throat, offer her a smile and another hug, and then pull away. 

Because now I know I made the right choice. That helping her heal, helping her get better and handle the pain from her past, is more important to me than my own feelings.

I’m in so deep that now I realize her happiness means more to me than my own.


	7. Chapter 7

You are way too early.

I bite my lip as I stare at the clock in my car, debating whether it would be completely ridiculous for me to show up to Peeta’s office almost 20 minutes before the scheduled start of our session. The rational part of me knows that it is crazy, but there seems to be a bigger part of me that just doesn’t seem to care.

Eventually I find myself walking up to his office door only to find it already opened.

I spot Peeta at his desk with his back facing me.

“Ow dammit!” Peeta whispers under his breath.

“Um hello?” I laugh lightly, knocking on his door to announce my presence.

When he turns around he shoots me a brilliant smile, his entire face lighting up.

“Hey!” he says enthusiastically, and I’m thankful he doesn’t mention how absurdly early I am.

“Let me just go throw this in the microwave. It’s my dinner tonight and well, I haven’t eaten all day,” he laughs, holding up what looks like a frozen tray of macaroni and cheese.

“Frozen dinner? Aren’t you suppose to be like…a baker?” I question, scrunching up my nose at the unappetizing meal.

“You said it yourself. I’m a baker…not a chef,” he explains with false indignation. “And you sound just like Delly. What’s wrong with frozen food?” He asks, pretending to look hurt.

“Delly?” I find myself asking, before I can think twice.

“Oh yeah,” Peeta says, a smile in his eyes, “my friend Delly. I went to college with her. She was with me at the bar the other day when we ran into each other. The blonde, short one,” he adds. “She’s always giving me crap for eating frozen meals.”

“Oh,” I respond, feeling relief wash over me. I hadn’t realized until that moment how much the idea that the girl he had been with was his girlfriend had been weighing on me. Having to watch them interact, the familiarity, the closeness, the way they seemed to be so completely comfortable with one another felt like a knife to the gut.

I refuse, however, to analyze or reflect on why I feel that way at the idea of him with another girl.

“Yeah, Johanna thought that you guys might have been together,” I lie, trying to cover for my momentary inability to speak.

“Yeah no,” Peeta laughs. “She’s one of my closest friends. Nothing more.”

“So no girlfriend then?”

I feel my chest tighten the moment the words leave my mouth. The sudden rash and bold moment that let those words escape vanishes as quickly as it appeared. I feel my entire face flush as I mentally curse myself for saying something so stupid. I’m being nosy and intrusive and he doesn’t have to tell me whether he has a girlfriend and to be honest I’m a bit scared to hear the answer because-

“Nope,” Peeta responds, his voice steady. “I’m extremely single,” he laughs it off like a joke.

I don’t find it particularly funny though. For some reason, his answer seems to calm the raging storm in my heart. I finally drag my eyes up to meet his and he gives me one of his signature half smiles.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, moving past me and out into the hallway. “I’m going to go nuke this in the kitchen.”

When he leaves I drop my bag on the couch and wander around the room for a bit.

The small, intimate space has come to mean so much more to me than I would have ever expected over the past couple of months. It was in this little office that I really got to know Peeta, that I started talking about all the good times I spent with my dad, that I finally let myself feel the pain and hurt from losing him in a way I never had.

Even without the things Peeta makes me feel that I’m still having a hard time processing or even acknowledging, I know that I will always feel a special connection to him for the rest of my life. I never once expected or thought that anything would ever come of this grief counseling Haymitch suggested as a means to get my sister back. All I wanted was to get through it with as little trouble as possible so my request to become Prim’s guardian stood a decent chance. I had no interest in sorting through my deep and dark twisted past and all the pain I had buried away. I learned from watching my mother go from a woman head over heels in love to being completely incapacitated after my father’s death, that letting yourself be open, letting yourself feel the kind of emotions that are all consuming, good or bad, only leads to heartache and misery.

But then Peeta came and changed everything.

There’s something about him, that I can’t quite put my finger on, that made me take down my walls inch by inch, lower my guard and slowly start to let him in. Maybe it’s because he was just so damn persistent and I didn’t really have another choice. Maybe it’s just because he took it slow and earned my trust before anything else.

But somewhere deep down I know that it is a lot more than that. There’s something about Peeta that shines out of him, this light that burns as bright as the golden mess of hair on his head that is impossible to ignore. He sees the good in people, he believes in the good, he focuses on the rainbow that fills the sky rather than the raging storm that preceded it. It’s something I’ve never been able to do, something that’s almost impossible for me to do.

And to see him be such a hopeful and optimistic person despite his own hardships makes me think of him as the first hint of spring after a particularly brutal winter. It’s like what he said during that very first session, ‘that no matter how bad your losses, it can be good again’. And now, after getting to know him, after his help navigating my way through the the trauma and tragedy of my past, I’m slowly starting to believe that sentiment.

Since the time I broke down in his arms while reading the letter I wrote to my father our sessions have become steadily less intense. It’s a good thing though. I’m still working through my grief, filling handfuls of notebooks with my writing nearly every day, but I don’t have to let him in on all of it. He says all that matters is that I’m honest with myself.

I still feel the raw, blinding pain when I think of my father and the topic of my mother makes my insides twists with anger and longing, but I’m making progress.

It’s not perfect, but it’s something. And I have Peeta to thank for that.

I come around his desk, noticing that it looks like a hurricane came through the room and spread papers everywhere. There are piles of unorganized stacks of folders and various forms covering every inch of the dark wood.

I realize I shouldn’t exactly be looking at his things when something catches my eye.

At the edge of his desk is the corner of a paper peeking out from a bunch of other papers. This paper is different though. From the small part that is showing I can see the heavy shades and distinctive lines of a piece of art.

Letting my curiosity get the better of me I reach out and pull the paper from the bottom of the pile.

My breath catches.

What I’m looking at is a masterpiece. I let my eyes roam over the page, taking in every small detail in fascination. It’s a picture of a family. Well, technically it’s a picture of what looks like a father with his three sons. The father is wearing an apron and laughing, holding the youngest, a boy about 5 years old or so, on his shoulders. He shares the same wavy, unruly hair as the child and by just looking at the illustration of the little boy in the picture I know that it’s suppose to be Peeta.

The other two children are walking along the father’s side and are considerably older, 9 or 10 easily. They have different hair and coloring than the pair, but they’re looking up at the man with the same adoration.

My heart clenches painfully in my chest as Peeta’s words come back to me. The day he shared about himself when I was still in group therapy, the day he chased me out in the parking lot afterwards and asked why I wouldn’t let him help me.

“I lost two people really close to me, people who I grew up with, who I loved with my whole heart. My older brothers died when I was really young.”

I bite down hard on my lip, willing the tears away. Thinking of this little boy on his father’s shoulders losing both of his brothers and having to suffer through that pain for the rest of his life makes me want to break down. It makes me want to cry and scream over how unfair it is that someone so good and kind got such a raw deal. It also makes me wonder how he can still be who he is today, how he can still be happy despite everything.

I put the paper back on the desk where I found it, unsure if I can stand looking at that image a second longer when I notice that there are more illustrations.

I pick up the stack of papers and am blown away by what I see.

Every drawing is as good as the last, a river leading into a valley at sunset, a meadow with tall grass and birds and flowers everywhere, and several more scenic landscapes.

In the back of my mind I realize I shouldn’t be looking at these, that they’re private and Peeta might be upset if he found me looking, but I can’t seem to pull myself away.

Finally, I reach the last drawing and my heart stops.

It’s me.

Or the way Peeta sees me at least. I’m sitting on a rock at a lake; a completely isolated body of water surrounded by pine trees. My hair is in it’s usual braid over my shoulder and I’m smiling.

I can’t think, I can’t breathe. All I can do is stare at this picture and wonder if this is really how Peeta sees me. Because the girl in this picture is not how I see myself at all. This girl is beautiful and full of life and-

I hear footsteps coming down the hall and I immediately shove the papers back under the pile where I found them. I freeze, unsure if I should move away from his desk to not look like I’ve been snooping or if it will just look worse if he finds me darting away right when he walks in.

Before I know it he’s pushing open the door and I’ve yet to make a decision. In a last moment of desperation I reach out and grab one of his business cards from the corner of his desk to make it look like I have an excuse for being over here.

“Damn it, this is hot!” Peeta complains, holding the tray of steaming mac ‘n cheese as he comes into the office.

“I didn’t know you were so professional,” I try and keep my voice steady as I hold up his business card. Attempting to play it cool like I wasn’t just having a total freak out before he came in.

Peeta just laughs and shakes his head, “Oh yeah, my dad ordered me like 500 of those when I got hired,” he explains, coming over to his desk and putting his dinner down. “I tried to explain to him that I don’t really need them, but he was so proud.”

He’s silent for a moment and I just look at him as he stares down at the cards on the desk. A frown has worked its way onto his features and the thought of him unhappy makes my stomach turn unpleasantly. His eyebrows pinch together and the corners of his mouth are tilted downward.

“How is he?” I ask carefully, wondering if he’s open to talking to me about such intimate details of his life. He’s mentioned before that his father has cancer but we haven’t really gone into further detail than that. Peeta has always made sure to keep the focus on me, on my issues.

Peeta shrugs without meeting my eyes. “He has surgery in a week. They’re going to try and go in and get most of the tumor.”

His voice is steady, although he seems to be working to keep it controlled and emotionless. He continues staring at the business cards and my hands tighten at my sides, my heart aching for him. With each of my parents’ deaths it was sudden and jarring, they were here one day and gone the next. I wonder what it must be like to have the possibility of losing someone you love hanging over you day after day in such a long, drawn out manner.

The thought makes me shudder because I can’t decide which is worse.

I reach up and touch his arm, bringing him back to me.

He starts a little at the touch, clearly caught off guard, but then he relaxes. He seems to shake his head a little, as if it’s truly that easy for him not to let the dark thoughts consume him, and then offers me a small smile.

He grabs the business card out of my hand and then leans down and grabs a pen from his desk. “Here, to make you feel special,” he begins, scribbling something on the back of the card. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually given one of these out. But for you…” he trails off as he stands back up and offers me the card.

I fight back a smile and roll my eyes.

“I’m honored,” I tease, taking the card from him.

“You should be,” he replies, “I even put my cell number on the back.”

My heart starts to pound like it’s trying to escape my chest, but I try and play it cool.

“Well, thanks, now I really do feel special,” I laugh, slipping the card into my pocket for safe keeping.

“So umm…” Peeta trails off, not meeting my eyes, “I have…news.”

I feel my chest constrict, suddenly afraid of what he is going to say.

“Um okay?” I try and laugh it off, try and pretend I’m unfazed by the vague statement.

“Come here,” he says walking over to the couch and taking a seat.

Okay. Now I’m really scared. I sit next to him and try and imagine what he could possibly have to tell me. My mind is creating a thousand different horrific scenarios when he starts talking.

“So I’ve been talking with Haymitch, updating him about your progress. He’s really happy that to hear that you’ve been taking steps in the right direction,” he explains.

“Oh, okay,” I respond, starting to relax a little. That’s good news, actually.

“The thing is though…” He adds, and my stomach drops a little. “He suggested that we start to reduce the number of sessions we have together. He wants us to cut down to twice a week and then eventually only once a week.”

“What? Why?” I ask, confused and more upset than makes sense at the news that I actually don’t need this grief counseling as much anymore.

“He said that if he gets reports from me not only indicating how you’ve improved, but that I even think you need fewer sessions a week it will look really good when he brings your case to the judge.”

“Oh…” is the only thing I can manage to say as the news sinks in.

This is what I wanted. I wanted to get through these sessions just so I stood a better chance at getting my sister back. This is good news. This is great news.

So why does it feel like my heart has dropped into my stomach?

“Well, great…” I finally mange to reply, forcing a smile.

“Yeah,” he responds and he seems less than enthusiastic about the idea as well.

I spend the rest of the session hating that I only have so much time left with him.

X

Gale is on top of me.

Gale is kissing me.

Gale is running his hand up the outside of my thigh, coming to rest on my hip where he tugs at the material of my underwear.

His kisses are long and desperate and for some reason it feels like I can’t breath. And not just because my lips are being occupied.

There is a funny feeling of pressure on my chest, although he is holding his body weight above me with his arms, and my head feels cloudy like I’m in a daze.

I pull my head back against the pillow and press my hands against his chest to push him away just slightly.

We both take a moment to catch our breath.

Gale’s lips return to me before I’m ready though. He starts kissing up my neck and along the underside of my jaw. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to clear my mind and wondering what’s wrong with me.

“God I’ve missed you,” Gale breathes against my skin, “I’m sorry I’ve been working so much.”

He has been putting in a lot of hours at the law firm lately, but he hopes to get hired there when he graduates so he doesn’t really have a choice. He has been getting home so late though that he has mostly been just crashing at his place down the hall rather than waking me up in the middle of the night.

This is the first time in a long while that he has been home early enough to sleep in the same bed as me.

“Katniss…” he hums against my throat and I feel his length pressing against my inner thigh.

My heart starts to hammer in my chest. I don’t know what’s happening. I can’t explain it. All I can think is that this just feels…so much different than before. It feels nothing like those times before when Gale and I have made out and done…other stuff.

Back then it was easy and comfortable and nice.

Now, however, there is something strange and uneasy stirring in my chest as he continues to attack my lips with his own. And of course I’m racked with guilt for even thinking such things. Gale is my boyfriend and my best friend of 7 years and I love him. He’s always been there for me and I can’t imagine him not in my life.

I take into account that it’s only this part of our relationship that feels off to me now. That talking and spending time with him lately has been just the same as always.

He returns his lips to mine and kisses me deeply, pushing his tongue into my mouth.

When he pulls away, he whispers something he’s never actually said out loud to me.

“I want to make love to you,” he says, his face hovering inches from mine.

The pressure on my chest intensifies and my stomach turns to knots. I look into his eyes and hate that I’m feeling the way I am because Gale means so much to me and the last thing in the world I want to do is hurt him.

“I’m sorry,” I respond looking away from him. “I’m just not ready yet.”

Gale is a saint. There are not many 20-something guys who would be with their girlfriend for over a year and still be waiting patiently for her to decide when she wants to lose her virginity.

After a long moment of silence he presses a kiss to my forehead. “It’s okay,” he tells me before rolling onto his back beside me on the bed. “But I still want to, Katniss,” he adds, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as I curl into him. “Eventually.”

“I know,” I respond, kissing him on the cheek.

And to relieve some of my feelings of guilt, and to thank him for being so patient with me and waiting, I trail my hand down his stomach.

I slip my hand under his boxers and grasp him firmly, starting to work him up and down.

He sucks in his breath through gritted teeth and moans his appreciation.

“I love you,” he whispers as my hand trails over his head.

I return my lips to his so I don’t have to respond.

I use the moisture that has leaked from his tip to help guide my movements and concentrate on helping him find his release.

He is panting his appreciation now, his hand tangled in my hair, but my mind has started to wander again. I think about how early I have to be up for work tomorrow, and that I’m supposed to meet Johanna for lunch and that I haven’t seen Prim in almost a week and a half.

When his entire body starts to tense it brings me back to the present moment and I feel even more guilty than before, because what is wrong with me? Why can’t I just focus on making my boyfriend feel good?

After he finishes and cleans up he offers to return the favor.

But I lie and tell him I’m too tired.

Shame is not a strong enough word to describe what I’m feeling as I close my eyes and hope for sleep that never comes.

X

“I told you she wasn’t his girlfriend!”

I roll my eyes at Johanna as she stops in the middle of our run, putting her hands on her hips and looking irritatingly smug. We’re on a hiking trail a little ways out of the city. I guess she got bored using my gym all the time and wanted to try something different so I tagged along because I thought the exercise and fresh air would do me some good.

Help to clear my mind.

“Well, I mean, it wasn’t like it was that crazy of an assumption to make,” I defend myself for thinking Peeta was dating his friend Delly. “I mean they were all over each other all night.”

“Not really,” Johanna replies as she starts walking the trail again. “I mean, yeah they were hanging out, and they might even have been a little touchy-feely, but it was super obvious they were just friends.”

“How do you know?” I scrunch my nose up at her.

“Because people who are fucking have a certain energy about them,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And they did not have the ‘we’ve fucked a bunch of times’ feel to them.”

I laugh despite myself. “Okay, whatever you say.”

“It’s true,” she replies, “and I’m super good at spotting it. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I didn’t spot it with you and tall, dark, and handsome the other night.”

I stop walking, looking over at her with wide eyes. “How do you..what…”

“So basically you just confirmed my theory,” she puts a hand on my shoulder. “I was 95% sure before, but now I know.”

She doesn’t say it in a mean way, just very matter of fact. I feel my face heating up, avoiding her eyes. “But damn, why aren’t you letting him hit it? I would,” she winks at me with a little laugh.

I take a deep breath and look away. I hate talking about this kind of stuff with people. I’ve actually never really talked about it with anyone and since Johanna is the only close female friend I’ve had since high school I haven’t had many opportunities to anyway.

It feels…strange to be discussing such intimate details of your life so openly.

“I just…I’ve never done it before and I’m just not ready,” I mumble.

“You mean you’re a…oh damn. Okay, well then yeah that makes sense,” she returns and I’m thankful she doesn’t make a big deal about my inexperience.

We continue walking along the trail. Apparently we’ve run as much as we can for today.

“So can I ask you what you’re waiting for?” Johanna speaks up after a moment of silence. “I mean, you guys have been together for over a year, right? And you’ve known him since you were a kid.”

I take a deep breath and chew on my bottom lip as I contemplate how to answer her.

Because the truth is I’m not really sure what it is I’m waiting for anymore. The truth is that ever since I’ve started grief counseling, ever since I’ve really acknowledged my dad’s death and worked through that pain, my walls have slowly started to crumble. I don’t feel like there’s this huge guard up around my heart anymore, letting myself feel things…both good and bad…isn’t the terrifying idea it once was.

But for some reason I can’t explain I’m still not sure I’m ready to go down that road with Gale just yet. Especially when just kissing him has been making me feel conflicted and confused lately.

“I don’t know…” I finally respond, deciding to just be honest with her.

She laughs lightly and the sound puts me at ease a little. She’s not judging me, she’s just listening.

“Well, brainless,” she begins, using my the nickname that almost sounds affectionate coming from her, “you should probably figure it out. Cause he probably won’t be able to wait forever.”

I realize she has a point, but before I can respond she speaks up.

“Hey will you come with me somewhere after we grab lunch?”

I’m so caught off guard by her rare and sudden request I respond almost immediately.

“Sure.”

We grab lunch at our favorite deli, but instead of going wherever it is she wants to next she suggests getting ice cream. I go along with it, but I can’t help feeling that she’s stalling for some reason.

Finally, we get in her car and she drives us to the hospital.

She’s silent after she parks the car and I look over at her, frowning as she stares straight ahead, seemingly lost in her own world.

“Johanna?” I say quietly and she jumps as if I’ve startled her and she forgot I was here.

“Let’s go,” I gesture towards the hospital entrance and she shoots me an appreciative smile as we get out of the car.

I follow her through the front lobby and into the elevator which we take up to the fifth floor. She gets off the elevator and leads me down the hall to a room where she stops at the doorway. She looks at me once, searching my face for I don’t know what.

Finally, she moves into the room and sits at the bedside of a girl that looks strikingly similar to her.

Suddenly, words she spoke back when I was still in group therapy, the only words I ever really remember her saying in any of those sessions come back and hit me full force.

“I lost my sister. Well, not technically. She’s on life support. Brain damage from the car accident. It was a drunk driver.”

A lump starts to form in my throat and I sink down into the chair beside her, blindly reaching out and grabbing her hand. She squeezes it to the point of pain but I barely notice.

“I wanted you to meet my sister,” she barely gets out before her voice cracks.

“She looks just like you,” I return, offering her a shaky smile that she struggles to return.

After a long moment she takes a deep breath and looks much more composed than before.

“I’m going to let her go.”

I look over at her in surprise and she just nods her head.

“I guess Sunshine has been helping more than I realized,” she tries to laugh it off, but I can see the truth in her eyes. In that moment I feel my heart swell with gratitude and pride thinking of Peeta and how many lives he touches, how he has helped not only me, but so many others.

“Will you be here with me when they do it?” She asks me, suddenly looking close to panicking.

“Of course,” I tell her without hesitation, my heart aching that she has no one else in her life to ask to be by her side at a moment like that.

“Of course, I’ll be here,” I repeat. “I will be right next to you.”

X

It’s a Friday night and I’m already in my pajamas by 9pm.

I’m moving around my kitchen making mac ‘n cheese when the phone rings.

I reach out for it with one hand and hold it against my ear with my shoulder as I continue to stir the boiling macaroni.

“Hello?”

“Katniss, darling!”

I can’t help but chuckle as the familiar woman’s voice booms through the phone.

“Hey Effie,” I greet her happily. Although I never would have expected it I’ve come to actually respect and even like the woman who has been taking care of my sister for the past few months. She’s definitely…different. And I don’t think I would normally get along with her very well if we hadn’t been forced into these circumstances by fate, but she has become someone I trust.

For all her quirks, Effie has been doing a really good job with Prim. She has taken care of her better than I could have hoped for and made this time with out my little duck bearable, instead of excruciating like I had expected it to be.

“How are you dear?” Effie questions and we make small talk for a little while as I bring the pasta over to the sink to drain.

I notice though that there is something off about Effie, something in the tone of her voice that makes me think there’s something she’s hiding.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing so well,” Effie returns and for a moment there is nothing but silence over the phone.

The moment lingers a second too long and instantly I know something is wrong.

My stomach twists unpleasantly.

“Effie, what is it?” I ask, desperation seeping into my voice. “Is it Prim? Is she okay? Just tell me, please.”

“Prim is fine,” Effie assures me and my anxiety eases up just a little. “She is wonderful in fact. Her report card came in the mail today actually. She had nothing but A’s and B’s.”

“That’s great,” I return, now genuinely perplexed over what could be wrong.

“But there is something…” Effie says at length and the pressure on my chest returns.

“Well, what is it?” I ask carefully.

“Katniss dear,” she begins and I wait with baited breath for her to continue.

“I’ve been offered a job in New York.”

My head starts to swim as I try and work out why she is telling me this. I don’t say anything for a long moment and then she continues.

“They want me there in 6 weeks, darling.”

I’m still in a sort of daze, trying to process what she’s saying and how it affects me.

She sighs, as if she realizes I’m not putting two and two together and then continues.

“I’m going to take it, Katniss. And if Prim is still my legal responsibility she will be coming with me.”

I gasp, a sort of choked whiny sound that escapes before I can stop it. I cover my mouth with my hand and lean against the kitchen counter because my legs feel like they’re about to give up on me.

Effie is still talking, about how she’s sorry to do this but she doesn’t have any other choice and that Prim is her responsibility. I’m not really listening though because I feel like the walls are closing in.

I knew things couldn’t stay this good forever, I knew that eventually it would all come crashing down around me. Things in my life fall apart. They always have and they always will.

This thing where Effie took great care of Prim and I got to see my sister anytime I wanted was just a reprieve from the usual shit storm that is my life. I knew it wouldn’t last, somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it would all blow up in my face eventually.

“Katniss, darling, I am truly sorry,” Effie’s voice comes back to me over the phone. “You can always come visit you know. New York is just a short plane ride away.”

I don’t remember much after that. I think I eventually said goodbye to Effie, hanging up on her mid sentence. I think I may have just stared unblinkingly at the cooked pasta sitting in the sink, suddenly repulsed by the idea of food.

The next thing I know I am in my bed, curled up under the sheets alone and sobbing uncontrollably.

My cries of anguish are a lot like the ones I experienced that time with Peeta in his office. Tears over losing someone that I love. And now it is happening all over again.

Sometime much later I eventually wear myself out and fall into a restless sleep.

X

I’m in a meadow.

I’m surrounded by tall green grass that is alive with different flowers and birds.

At the edge of the meadow there is an electrical fence.

As I approach it I have the strangest sense of having been here before, in a different time, maybe in a different life.

Something tells me to listen for the hum of the electricity although I don’t expect it to be on.

It’s never on, I think, wondering how I know that.

When I hear nothing I slip through a gap between the wires. On the other side of the fence there is a forest. Tall, lush trees that remind me of the woods my father used to take me camping at.

In the woods I find a bow.

I use it to take out a doe and two small squirrels. Then I begin gathering plants, strawberries and katniss flowers. I can’t explain it, but I know that I need to find food, I know that my survival depends on it.

I’m washing up in a creek when I get the feeling I’m being watched.

I turn around quickly and see two blonde braids whip around the large trunk of a tree.

“Prim!” I call out, wondering what on earth my sister is doing here.

I move towards the tree but I see her take off, scurrying quickly away from me. All I can see is the back of her, her blonde braids and her untucked shirt hanging out and flopping in the wind.

My heart starts to speed up. Why is she running away from me?

“Prim!” I cry out again, hurt and confused as to why she is ignoring me. I take off through the woods trying to chase her down but she eludes me. Every time I think I get close enough to grab her I try and reach out for her but she is just an inch out of my reach.

“Prim!” I begin to shout hysterically, wondering why she just won’t come back to me. I never see her face, just the back of her, turning and twisting through the trees and bushes, doing everything she can to evade me.

The scene transforms in an instant.

We’re in the middle of a street and there is complete chaos. People shouting and crying and guns going off. I see her up ahead near a group of children, blocked off by a group of men in white uniforms. I call to her again one final time and when she finally turns around so I can see her face everything explodes into one giant ball of fire.

I wake up with a start, sitting up in my bed, the sheets are twisted around me uncomfortably and my entire body is drenched in sweat. I can feel my heart hammering in my chest as I recall the pure panic that consumed me when I thought that nightmare was real.

As the relief that it was just a horrible dream starts to take over it is quickly washed away when I remember the conversation I had with Effie last night.

The thought of losing Prim, of her moving away, of not being able to see her anytime I want hits me like a ton of bricks and I feel close to losing it.

With shaky limbs I climb out of bed and start searching through the scattered clothes on my floor.

With trembling hands I find the jeans I had been searching for and reach into the front pocket.

I pull out the small business card and blindly reach for my phone on my bedside table.

I don’t even take a moment to hesitate or second guess as I dial the numbers.

He picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Peeta, it’s Katniss.”


	8. Chapter 8

When I reach her door I hesitate for only a second before raising my hand to knock.  
An increasingly small part of me questions whether this okay, whether showing up here is appropriate and whether I can keep pretending like I can just ignore how I feel about her.  
I don’t linger on those thoughts too long though.   
I’m too anxious to see her, too worried about how she’s doing.  
On the phone she sounded scared and desperate and close to breaking down.  
When she opens the door I take in the sight in front of me.  
She’s wearing a sweatshirt and plaid pajama bottoms. Her hair is in its usual braid and her face is completely bare although her eyes look red from crying.  
My heart does a funny kind of lurch in my chest as I realize that despite her disheveled state I still think she looks absolutely beautiful. I hate seeing her in pain though and just by looking into her eyes I can tell that she’s hurting.  
I raise the paper bag in my arms.  
“I brought breakfast,” I tell her, hoping to coax a smile out of her.  
I’m rewarded with a lopsided grin as she moves aside to let me in.  
“Thank you,” she begins as I walk over to the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry for calling you so early.”  
“Don’t mention it,” I assure her, “I’m a baker. I’m an early riser by nature.”  
I take in my surroundings.   
The apartment is a decent size. The kitchen and living room are right next to each other and there is a small hallway with two closed doors. I remember Katniss telling me that she moved here with her mom and her sister after her father died. For 3 people it would be a tight, but manageable fit.   
I can’t imagine how empty it must seem now being here all by herself though.  
Suddenly I wonder if she really is here by herself. I think about Gale, where does he live, how often does he come over, why didn’t she call him?  
But those thoughts quickly vanish when I turn and look at her again. She’s nervously playing with the end of her braid and chewing on her bottom lip. It feels like just looking at her, just being around her sometimes can make every rational thought I’ve ever had just fly right out of my head.  
All I care about right now is that I’m here with her.  
“Okay, so...” I begin, searching through the paper bag, “I brought bagels, donuts, cinnamon rolls-”  
“Oh my god, Peeta!” Katniss laughs, looking at me incredulously.  
“What? I’m a baker,” I defend myself as she tries to hold back a smile.   
I don’t think I enjoy anything as much as I enjoy seeing her smile.  
“And finally, I brought those cheese buns you’ve heard so much about.”  
She laughs as I hand her the pastry.  
“Well, I guess I know what I’m starting with,” she says with a smile.  
“Come on, let’s eat,” I tell her and we take our breakfast snacks over to the couch in her living room.  
She bites into a cheese bun and as she chews I become fascinated with the tiny crumbs that linger on the corner of her lips. I can’t tear my eyes away and when she makes a low moan of approval at the treat I notice the tightening in my pants.  
I shift awkwardly to try and make it less noticeable.  
“Wow, this is really, really good,” she comments as she continues to devour the pastry.  
“I told you,” I laugh as she finishes the cheese bun in record time.   
When we’re done with breakfast she curls up on the couch, bringing her feet up so they’re tucked underneath her and she is completely facing me.  
The light moment of distraction with the food has passed and the real reason I’m here, the phone call I received at 6:00 am this morning comes back to mind.   
I keep my eyes trained on her and the longer I look at her I see that her face starts to fall.   
I know there’s no use ignoring it any longer.  
“How are you doing?” I ask softly as she stares down at her hands in her lap.  
She shrugs and seems to be searching for words.  
“Not good...” she finally gets out, her voice barely more than a whisper.  
I bite my tongue, deciding to be patient and wait for her to elaborate.  
“I can’t lose her, Peeta,” she says, anxiety lacing her words.  
“Hey,” I begin, reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at me and I see all the fear and vulnerability there that only a couple months ago I know she would have kept hidden and locked away from the world. “That’s not going to happen, ok? I already called Haymitch-”  
“This early?” She interrupts, looking amused and surprised.  
“It was important,” I tell her which earns me a smile. “I told him we can’t wait any longer. First thing Monday morning he’s going to send your request for guardianship to a judge to be reviewed. It might take a couple of weeks, but the process can get done before Effie has to move for her job.”  
“Thank you,” she whispers, reaching out for my hand and intertwining our fingers.  
At the feel of the intimate gesture I can feel a warm lightness spread through every inch of me. My heart is pounding away as my mind tries to wrap itself around the idea that she was the one to initiate this, that we’re actually holding hands right now.  
Feeling emboldened I gently caress the back of her hand with the pad of my thumb and she closes her eyes and lets out a contented sigh as she sinks even further into the couch.   
“I...I had the worst dream,” she says, her voice tiny and full of raw pain that makes my heart ache. “That’s what woke me up so early.”  
I nod my head in sympathy, keeping my eyes trained on her.  
“I get those sometimes,” I admit and her head snaps up quickly and fixes me with an intense stare. “I have nightmares where it’s like...it’s like I’m watching the way my brothers died and I can’t do anything about it.”  
She doesn’t say anything, she just keeps gazing at me with a look that is full of understanding and sorrow and everything that a simple ‘I’m sorry’ could never convey. Her lips part slightly but no words come out and I can see her eyes start to glisten.  
“What do you do?” She whispers again, keeping her eyes on me. “About the nightmares?”  
I take a deep breath and think about my answer for a moment. “There’s nothing you can really do,” I admit. “All you can do is tell yourself that it’s not real.”  
She’s quiet for a moment and seems to be content with the answer, but then I speak up again.  
“I think it helps though to have someone to talk to them about. I don’t know...I think talking about them is almost a way of releasing them, letting them go. They lose their power, their hold over you when you get it out in the open, when you acknowledge that they’re nothing more than your deepest, darkest fears and your mind playing tricks on you.”  
She opens her eyes and when she looks at me it’s like those grey pools are looking directly into my soul.  
“Who do you talk to? I mean, who do you go to when you need to talk about your brothers...about how they died?”  
I flush a little when I realize I’ve been caught. I don’t look at her. I just shrug my shoulders and don’t say anything in response because the truth is it’s been a long time since I’ve had the courage or the opportunity to talk about the night terrors that visit me on occasion.  
“Talk to me,” she says almost immediately and she’s not asking, she’s almost demanding that I do this.   
Naturally, when it comes to her I have no choice.   
“They were my half brothers,” I begin, deciding I want to really share this with her. “My mother was married before she met my dad and they were 5 years older than me, but I loved them. I was 5, you know? I didn’t know the difference. It never once occurred to me that we were different somehow just because we had different dads.”  
Now that I’m starting to talk I realize this topic is harder than I thought it would be for me to discuss. I realize that I’ve ignored some of the pain I feel when I think about it in favor of always trying to move on and stay strong.  
“My mother was not a good person. I think she was mentally ill, might have even grown up in an abusive household herself. She hit us all the time. My dad was running his bakery so he didn’t catch on right away.”  
My throat starts to tighten and I suddenly become aware that Katniss has scooted closer to me on the couch. She has pulled our joined hands into her lap and is now holding my hand in both of hers. I can feel her eyes on me, urging me to continue as the words spill out of me.   
“When he realized what was happening he left her. He took me and left, but he couldn’t-” my voice catches and I take a moment to compose myself, trying to hold on as the tidal wave of emotions wash over me.   
It never ceases to amaze me that something that happened so long ago can still hurt as much as if it only happened yesterday.  
“He couldn’t take my brothers,” I get out and now Katniss is practically leaning into me, clutching onto my hand desperately as she listens intently. “I mean he did what he could, but by then it was too late.”  
“Peeta...” she says in a voice full of anguish and disbelief. When I raise my head and lock eyes with her I see she is close to tears.   
I hate the thought of making her cry.  
“So sometimes in my nightmares it’s like I’m watching her right after my dad left. The way she must have lost her mind and took it out on my brothers. The way she beat them and how they were so defenseless-”  
Katniss throws her arms around me before I can say anything else and I’m thankful. I grab onto her desperately, clinging to her like she is the only thing keeping me here and keeping me sane. I haven’t talked about that in so long. I guess I reached a point where I sort of started to believe that I wasn’t allowed to, or that I shouldn’t talk about it anymore. That it has been so long it shouldn’t cut me as deep as it does, that I shouldn’t be so affected by it.  
But the way Katniss holds onto me, pressing into me so tightly it’s like she’s trying to tell me that she knows it still hurts just as bad as it did when I was a kid. The way she holds onto me makes something inside me come undone. I cling to her with everything I have and try to hold back tears. It’s the kind of hug that breaks you down, that lets you know there is someone that understands, that there is someone that cares. The kind of hug where you recognize that you are not alone.   
Finally, after a long time has passed she pulls back.  
“I’m glad you trust me enough to share that,” she says, her hand still on my shoulder.  
I shrug, “I would trust you enough with anything.”  
We’re both quiet for a few moments after that. I dig out some more of the breakfast treats I brought over and we help ourselves to seconds.  
When she lets go of my hand to bite into a donut I instantly miss the warmth and feel of her.  
I find myself staring at her again and I’m not doing a very good job at hiding it. It’s hard to look away though and I feel almost overwhelmed at the sight of her. The way just looking at her stirs up this warm and curious sensation in my chest that makes me feel lightheaded and giddy. I imagine a thousand different possibilities where I take her in my arms or I push her back against the couch and crawl over her or I cradle her face in my hands and touch my lips to hers.  
Those nagging voices in the back of my mind, those voices that have grown quieter and easier to ignore lately, about how she has a boyfriend and that this is completely unprofessional and inappropriate try to protest, but I just can’t find it within me to really care anymore.   
I’m startled out of my thoughts when I realize she is staring at me strangely.  
“What?” She laughs. “Do I have powdered sugar on my face or something?” She asks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.  
“No,” I laugh, “I was just thinking...what are you doing today?”  
She seems a little startled by the question. She considers it for a moment and then chuckles. “Um nothing actually. I was suppose to work, but my shift got changed to tomorrow instead.”  
“Perfect,” I grin, putting my half eaten donut down. “I have an idea.”  
“An idea?” She raises her eyebrows and looks at me curiously.  
“Yeah and it’s pretty brilliant if I do say so myself.”  
I stand up from the couch and offer my hand to her. She doesn’t hesitate before taking it and I bring her to her feet so she is standing next to me.  
“Let’s go see Prim.”  
X  
The ride to Effie’s house takes a little less than a hour. Katniss was giddy when she realized I was serious about going to see Prim, racing into her room to get changed in record time.   
I tell myself that I want to meet the little girl that means so much to her and more than anything I want to see her happy. The part about us getting to spend an entire day together doesn’t hurt either though.   
We spend most of the car ride discussing music as she goes through my old collection of CDs I have scattered throughout the car, in the glovebox and in the center console. She even finds old CD mixes from my college years under the seat and we go through each song one by one.   
“So you were a fan of The Backstreet Boys then?” She asks, trying to stifle a grin as an annoying pop song comes on through the car’s speakers.  
“I do not know where that came from,” I defend myself because the truth is I actually don’t. I have a sneaking suspicion though that it is from those joke CDs Finn used to make me and leave in my car during college. That way anytime I had a date it would totally kill the mood when I turned on the CD player in my car.  
“If you say so,” she laughs as she starts singing along to a Britney Spears song.  
I can’t help glancing over at her during the rest of the trip. She is practically bouncing in her seat, watching the scenery change outside the window. There is a small smile gracing her lips that never really goes away and it makes it hard not to look at her, she is so happy and full of life - a drastic change from this morning when the thought of losing her sister was weighing on her heavily. It’s like staring at a beautiful painting, mesmerized by every tiny detail so you never want to look away because you might miss something.   
When we finally get there I have a two second moment of panic as Katniss knocks on the door. As we wait for Effie to answer the door I’m suddenly worried over what this woman might say when she sees me. I’m suddenly worried over what Prim will think of me being here with her sister. I don’t exactly expect them to understand whatever is going on between Katniss and I. I’m her grief counselor, but obviously there is a lot more to the story than just that. Even if I don’t exactly know how to explain it myself just yet.  
The door opens to reveal a woman done up with an excessive amount of make up and extremely bright clothes. She pulls Katniss into a hug almost immediately.  
“What a lovely surprise!” She exclaims, her eyes finally traveling over to me with interest.  
“This is my friend, Peeta,” Katniss introduces me and all the worry I had earlier vanishes.  
We’re friends. Friends.  
I’m not just her grief counselor, but I’m not anything else. It’s a fine line to try and walk.  
When Prim sees Katniss she squeals and runs to her sister, throwing herself into her arms as Katniss picks her up and swings her around. The two girls embrace for a long time and it isn’t until Katniss meets my eyes over her sister’s shoulder that I realize I’ve been grinning like a fool at just the sight of them together.  
Prim, to her credit, doesn’t blink an eye when Katniss introduces me.   
She’s only 14, but I know she’s not naive. I know that she must at least think something is strange about her sister showing up with a male friend who is not Gale, but she does a good job at hiding it if she does.   
She carries herself with much more grace and maturity than most girls her age. She’s exactly as Katniss described her, fair skin, blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s quiet, but thoughtful. She’s kind and mild mannered and it’s not hard to see why Katniss adores her.  
Katniss suggests a day at the park and Prim asks if she can invite her friend Rue.  
We drive downtown to the park, a huge space that takes up several acres and has more than just your typical set of swings and a slide. There is a huge fountain in the middle and a playground that puts all other playgrounds to shame. There are food vendors and a fenced off area for dogs. There are even balloon artists and people doing face painting. Overlooking all the hustle and bustle of the park there is a huge sloping hill with trees spaced intermittently among the tall green grass.   
The three of us hike up the hill and find a good space under a large oak tree. It provides provides plenty of shade and we spread out the blanket we brought underneath it.  
We dig into the sandwiches we picked up at the deli on the way here and for a moment there is just comfortable silence as we eat and listen to the sounds of the people roaming around the park down the hill.  
“There she is!” Prim shouts, putting down her sandwich and standing up. She runs over to a small dark skinned girl with a head of thick curls and they embrace.   
Katniss and I get up to join them and we meet Rue who apparently Prim knows from Etiquette classes - whatever those are.  
The two girls are strikingly similar. Despite the contrast in their skin color they could be sisters. They have a lot of the same mannerisms and seem to share a secret language where they can communicate without having to say anything.  
The girls ask if they can go explore the park and I can see Katniss glance down the hill with worry. It’s a Saturday afternoon and there are a lot of people out on the unseasonably warm day enjoying the park’s amenities. She bites her lip and I know she wants to say no, but she relents and tells them to come check back with us in an hour and that we’ll be at our spot under the tree.   
The girls take off without looking back and Katniss watches them go anxiously.   
“They’ll be fine,” I assure her as we head back over to the blanket.  
“I know,” she protests, a certain edge to her voice like she doesn’t want me to think she’s being too overprotective.  
We collapse onto the blanket and finish the rest of our sandwiches in silence. When we’re done I come sit next to her at the edge of the blanket so we’re both sitting with our legs bent and our arms resting on our knees as we stare down the hill at the people moving around the park.  
“Thank you for suggesting this,” she says, continuing to stare straight ahead. “Thank you for coming with me. I needed this.”  
“Of course,” I reply, looking over at her and getting lost in the way the slight breeze whips the hair around her face.  
We fall into another comfortable silence and then I lean back on my elbows and twist my body so I’m facing her. When she leans back against the blanket and faces me it’s like suddenly we’re in our own little world. Nothing else exists except her and me lying side by side on this blanket. The air heats and sparks around us, an electric charge that is as palpable as the shouts of the children on the playground at the bottom of the hill.  
I know she feels it too. I know without a shadow of a doubt that she feels it because she holds my gaze for a long time without saying anything and then looks down, a blush coloring her cheeks.  
I think I’m in love with you.  
I don’t say it, but the thought sits at the tip of my tongue and lingers. I know I shouldn’t say it. I know I can’t say it. I care too much about her to do that to her right now.  
And I really don’t want to ruin this moment.  
It’s funny now when I think about it that I ever thought I could just ignore or forget about how she makes me feel.  
“I keep thinking about how much you hated me when you first started coming to group therapy,” I say instead, coaxing a grin and a breathless laugh out of her.  
“And you’re not even denying it so you know it’s true,” I tease her.  
“I didn’t hate you,” she begins, a playful glint in her eyes. “I just wasn’t your biggest fan.”  
“Oh, that’s much better,” I laugh.  
“No, seriously,” she protests. “It wasn’t really you specifically anyway. I just hated the idea of grief counseling. Mainly because deep down I knew I needed it so badly. I hated knowing that I was weak. I hated knowing that I had all this unresolved pain and anger.”  
“Hey,” I whisper, reaching out to cradle her face in my hand so she looks at me, “you’re not weak. You never were. Not even a little.”  
She stares back at me, swallowing hard and never once looking away. It’s only then I realize the intimacy of what I’ve done, the way I’m holding her face and caressing her cheek. I pull my hand back a little awkwardly and look away.  
“Peeta...” she speaks up after a moment.  
I raise my eyes to meet hers and she is looking at me curiously.  
“How is your dad?”  
The question takes me off guard. It’s strange for someone who isn’t Delly or Finnick to ask about my father. I work in a profession where I am constantly asking other people about their problems and about how they’re doing. The idea that Katniss would want to know, that she cares about me enough to ask makes me feel pleasantly warm all over.  
“His surgery is in a couple of days,” I admit, noticing her eyes are trained on me. “His liver cancer is pretty advanced. He was doing chemo for a while, but the doctors said it wasn’t working like they wanted to. So they’re going to try and go in to get most of the tumor, but if they can’t...”  
My voice trails off and in those unspoken words the heavy truth lies in the air. The truth of the matter that has been eating away at me for months now. I’m starting to feel that unpleasant tightening in my chest whenever I think about my dad’s condition when I feel Katniss slip her hand into mine, intertwining our fingers together like we did earlier this morning.  
“And how are you?” She asks and I look up at her, my breath catching at the intensity of her gaze.  
“I...I feel like I’m breaking down every minute of the day. I feel like it’s slowly cutting me down,” I say truthfully, feeling better to have gotten that off my chest. “I hate the idea of losing him. I hate it. And this surgery is a both a blessing and a curse because if it’s successful he’s almost out of the woods, but if’s not...”  
I can’t finish the sentence because every time my mind goes there, every time my mind entertains the possibility that he might not get better I start to lose it.   
I take a deep shuddering breath to calm myself down.  
“I’m just going to hope for the best,” I finally say, “that’s all I can do.”

Katniss lets out a small, almost incredulous laugh. When I look at her strangely she shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she says, tightening her hold on my hand, “it’s just...you kind of amaze me. I can’t imagine how much you must be hurting and somehow you’re still managing to stay positive about everything. I just....how do you even do that?”

I laugh a little and shake my head. “You know the funny thing is that I think I’m like this because of him, because of my dad. He always saw the good in everything, he always believed in staying strong.”

“It’s never been like that for me,” she whispers, staring down at the blanket, “it’s always been such a struggle not to let the bad stuff bring me down.”

“You know the thing I’ve come to realize is that it’s a choice. We shape our world with our thoughts and even if you have to fight against the current, if you keep looking for that upside you’ll get there.”

“But why?” She whispers and at first her question confuses me. “What are you fighting for? What makes you keep going?”

“Maybe nothing specific,” I admit, although a voice in my head whispers that she is something I would fight for every day. “But I know I just don’t want to give up. I want to live, even if it means feeling pain because I believe there is some good left in the world, I have to. I refuse to accept misery and despair. They are a part of life, but I don’t want to let them take over my life.”

She squeezes my hand and gives me a small smile as we lock eyes. In this moment I’m positive I’ve never felt closer to anyone in my entire left. I loosen my hand from her grip to reach up and push the hairs that are blowing in her face back behind her ear.

Suddenly the world gets really quiet and it’s just her and me and everything feels perfect. I pull my hand away from her face and wish things were different, that there weren’t all these reasons why we can’t just be together.

We’re lying side by side in comfortable silence when a small voice interrupts us.

“Are we interrupting something?”

Katniss and I spring apart like guilty children.

Prim and Rue are standing at the edge of the blanket looking down at us. Rue is giggling, but Prim has a certain concerned look in her eyes as the two girls join us on the blanket.

I offer Rue the rest of my sandwich and despite protesting at first she eventually takes it and almost devours it whole.

“I was pretty hungry,” she laughs when she sees my wide eyed expression.

“How’s Gale doing, Katniss?” Prim asks not so innocently and I almost choke on the sip of water I had been swallowing.

“He’s been working a lot at the firm,” Katniss returns in a measured tone. 

I keep my head down and avoid looking at the pair of sisters as reality comes crashing down around us.

She has a boyfriend. You’re her grief counselor. I repeat these two things like a mantra in my head over and over again, desperately hoping that it will help to stave off this all consuming desire I have to be with her.

We decide to join Prim and Rue for the rest of the day, exploring everything the park has to offer. We throw bread at the ducks in the fountain, we watch as the girls explore the playground, and we try out some of the samples the food carts are handing out. 

Prim, despite her earlier mention of Gale, doesn’t seem to harbor any ill will towards me. In fact, she asks me a lot of questions and seems to always have her eye on Katniss and I when we interact. I also find that I seem to have a particular weakness for all of the Everdeen girls when she somehow talks me into letting the face painter draw a butterfly on me. I bargained with her though and at least get it put on my arm instead of my cheek.

Rue and Prim find the bright pink drawing hysterical and can’t stop laughing about it for the rest of the day. I even see Katniss failing to hide a grin every time she glances over at it. 

As the sun starts to set we head back to the car and stop at a pizza place for dinner. It’s not hard for the four of us to fall into a comfortable ease with one another. It feels natural spending time together. 

After dinner I can tell Katniss doesn’t want to say goodbye to her sister yet so I suggest ice cream on me. Prim and Rue light up at the idea and Katniss shoots me an appreciative smile like she knows what I’m doing.

I learn Katniss’ favorite flavor (mint chocolate chip) and watch the way her eyes light up at the simple treat. We walk around for a little bit, taking our time to enjoy the dessert as we window shop and enjoy the late night stroll.

Eventually though there’s no getting around that the day has come to an end. We drop Rue off at her home and then an uncomfortable silence falls over the three of us in the car. I can tell Katniss is uneasy about saying goodbye to her sister, especially with the recent news about Effie’s job and the possibility of losing Prim.

When we pull up to Effie’s house I hang back a little as we walk up to the front door, giving Katniss some time alone with her sister. They whisper a few quick words and I think I might see Katniss glance back at me over her shoulder, but only the porch light is on so it could just be my eyes playing tricks on me.

Finally, Prim speaks up, indicating it’s okay for me to join them.

“Thanks for the ice cream, Peeta ” Prim says as I approach the sisters.

“Don’t mention it,” I say, offering her a smile.

“I had a really good time today,” she states looking between Katniss and me. 

I get the feeling that she’s observing both of us closely for a reason I don’t want to think about and I flush a little and scratch the back of my neck. 

“I’m glad you guys came,” she says and then moves towards Katniss and throws her arms around her. They hug tightly for a long moment and then she whispers something in her ear.

When she pulls back she looks at me and I’m suddenly completely unsure of myself. I feel like the awkward teenager in this situation, no idea what to do or say.

Prim, however, seems to be completely at ease and moves towards me with confidence. When she wraps her arms around my neck I’m a little surprised at first, but then I return the hug completely. 

She places her mouth next to my ear on the opposite side of where Katniss stands and whispers something that makes my heart start to beat furiously. I don’t even have time to give her a questioning glance as she pulls away and waves goodbye before slipping inside the house.

Katniss and I walk back to the car in silence, but I can’t stop hearing Prim’s voice in my ear.

“I think my sister likes you.”

X

The car ride home is mostly silent.

I can tell having to leave her sister behind again was hard on Katniss in spite of the day they got to spend together. We don’t share more than a few words and she spends most of the trip just staring out the window. 

When we finally pull up to her apartment building she doesn’t make any move to get out of the car and I wonder if she even realizes we’re here. I put the car in park and reach over and touch her shoulder.

“Katniss, we’re here,” I say as gently as I can but she still seems to jump from my touch.

“What? Oh, okay,” she says, unbuckling her seat belt and grabbing her things.

“Hey, come inside for some coffee,” she suggests and I nod my head in agreement as my stomach does several flips in response to her offer. 

I follow her into the lobby of her building and she stops at the mail boxes and uses her key to empty her box. 

I yawn several times and attempt to cover my mouth on the third one to hide it but Katniss shoots me a playful look pretending to be annoyed with my weary state. I guess the early wake up call and the day at the park took more out of me than I realized.

Not that I would take any of it back if given the chance. This day has been practically perfect and the idea of getting to end it alone with Katniss in her apartment is all too appealing. 

“Am I boring you?” Katniss teases, raising her eyebrows at me as she stuffs her mail into her purse.

“Yes, I’m about to fall asleep you are so dull,” I joke, pretending to nod off while I’m standing up.

“You jerk,” she laughs, her eyes lighting up.

“I’m serious!” I protest, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as pretend to falter on my feet. “I might just fall asleep right here.”

“Peeta!” She cries out, laughing as I lean some of my body weight on her.

“So tired,” I keep the act up, pretending to drift off.

“You are ridiculous!” She shouts, but she is grinning at me. 

I wrap an arm around her waist, making sure that she won’t actually fall over as I lower my head to rest it on her shoulder. I make a point of exaggerating a yawn again. “Okay, I’m going to sleep now,” I inform her, closing my eyes for good measure.

Her laughter is so loud and infectious I can’t help smiling like an idiot even as I’m pretending to be asleep.

Our playful moment is interrupted however when we hear the sounds of screams and shouts from one of the apartment doors down the hall.

“Oh God,” Katniss groans, rolling her eyes as I glance down the hall.

“What?” 

“That would be the world’s worst neighbor, Mr. Thread,” Katniss explains with an exasperated sigh, glancing down the hall as the noise gets louder.

“Is he yelling about us?” I ask in confusion, trying to decipher the grunts and groans of what sounds like a really old man.

“Probably,” Katniss says with a shrug, “he lives directly below me and he’s always yelling up at me to keep it down when I don’t even do anything. He will literally start banging on his ceiling with a broom if I as so much turn my TV on.”

I can’t help but laugh a little. “Are you sure you don’t want to go say hi,” I tease, pretending to walk towards the hallway where the noise is coming from.

“Don’t even joke!” She laughs grabbing my arm and pulling me back.

“What? I’m sure he would love to talk,” I insist, but then we actually hear noise from the door in the hallway get louder and it sounds like someone is about to open it.

“Oh shit!” Katniss exclaims and the look of sudden dread on her face is almost comical.

“Come on! I do not want to see him,” she pleads, tugging me by the arm away from the hallway urgently. 

In her hurry though she drops her keys and at the exact moment we hear the door down the hall opening. She looks up at me wide eyed and I can barely hold back my laughter at the look on her face.

She bends down to grab her keys and when she stands up she grabs my arm and pulls me away from the hallway in a hurry. She drags me into a small alcove in the lobby with a single door that must lead to a utility room or something. 

We barely manage to duck out of sight of the hallway when we hear what must be Mr. Thread out in front of his door.

“Is that you Ms. Everdeen? I recognized your voice! You need to keep it down, it’s late! I’ll call the cops if I have to!” The old man shouts down the hall in our direction. 

I have to cover my mouth from laughing because Katniss’ description of him seems to be pretty accurate. He’s clearly has nothing better to do than complain about the smallest noises he hears.

After a few obscenity laced tirades about kids having no respect he disappears back into his apartment with a loud slam of his door and I’m still laughing.

Katniss lets the hand she had been using to try and keep her laughter silent drop and joins me in our mutual fit of amusement. 

My stomach actually hurts from laughing so hard, but suddenly the mirth dies in my throat as I realize the position I’m in.

Katniss’ back is pressed up against the wall of the alcove and I’m no more than a foot away from her, my left hand placed high against the wall above her.

Our faces are close. 

Really close. 

There might only be 6 inches separating us now.

She seems to sense it too and her earlier amusement has vanished.

Her eyes narrow and darken and I see her tongue dart out to wet her bottom lip.

She’s looking at me with such intensity I feel my heart start to beat wildly in my chest, straining to escape as the weight of this moment hits me.

She is beautiful. God, she is so beautiful.

And I want her so bad.

I want to pull her against me until our entire bodies are flush against each other, hot skin and muscle pressing against each other. 

I want her so close I lose track of where I end and she begins.

It’s like there’s an invisible cord pulling me closer to her, inch by inch.

I want to feel those lips against mine.

I want to stroke her tongue with my own.

Our breaths are warm and uneven and they meet and mix in the space between us.

Her chest is rising and falling, little gasps escaping her lips that are getting me hard.

Just a couple of inches more and my world will explode.

I’ll know what it’s like to taste her.

I can feel the heat of her all around me.

She is intoxicating.

She is perfect.

It’s when I lift my right hand, wanting to cradle her face as I kiss her that the moment is ruined.

The door down the hall opens again and Mr. Thread comes back outside, yelling about how hard it is to find peace and quiet in this building and threatening to move. He goes back inside his apartment not a few seconds later and slams the door again.

It’s enough to shock us back into reality and I quickly step away, realizing what I almost just did. 

My face is beet red and I can’t look at her. I’m ashamed about what just happened, even if I know she wanted it as badly as I did. 

I clear my throat and try and play it cool although I know there is no point in pretending this moment isn’t as awkward as it already is.

“Umm...so,” I can’t think straight. All I can think about is how close I was to kissing her. 

“I should probably go,” I say after a moment, realizing there is no way I can go up to her apartment and have coffee now and pretend everything is normal.

“Yeah...” Katniss agrees almost immediately and I feel sick.

“Thanks for today, Peeta,” She adds and when I look up at her she looks sad and wistful.

“Of course,” I respond immediately, but I’m still having a hard time looking at her.

“I’ll see you next week,” she says, moving out of the alcove and into the lobby. She presses the button for the elevator and glances over her shoulder at me one last time.

“Yeah, sure. See you next week,” I say meekly as the elevator comes and she steps onto it. 

We make eye contact once as the doors are closing, but she looks away almost instantly and there is a sudden sickening feeling in my stomach.

When the elevator door closes I stand there in the lobby on my own for a while, not sure what to do.

Eventually I turn and walk back outside to my car, running through all the good things that happened today and wondering why it had to end like this.


	9. Chapter 9

I can’t get him out of my head.

But I can’t let him into my heart.

Everything reminds me of him. His face fills my dreams, his voice lingers in the back of my mind, and the feel of his hand in my own or cradling my face like he did so often during that perfect day we got to spend together has permanently marked my skin, making me ache for his touch constantly.

More than anything I think about the way he was pressed up against me in that little alcove in the lobby of my apartment building. The way he was so close I could feel his warm breath against me, the way his eyes turned a dark shade of blue, how he looked down at my lips and subconsciously wetted his own with his tongue.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t want him. Or that I didn’t feel like I was about to burst from his proximity to me in that moment. Or that I hadn’t felt myself getting wet at just the idea of kissing him.

He is all I can think about it. 

He consumes me.

And it terrifies me.

As much as entertaining the possibility of being with Peeta in that way sends jolts of excitement and pleasure coursing through me, more than anything it sends a surge of fear into my heart and mind. 

Not only do I doubt my ability to even take a step in that direction with Peeta, but I realize that I shouldn’t even be entertaining that possibility. 

I realize that I can’t be entertaining that possibility.

I have no right to be thinking about Peeta this way when I already have a boyfriend. I have a boyfriend who I love and who has never been anything less than caring and supportive towards me. Gale has been in my life for so long I can’t remember what it was like without him. He was my salvation after my father died, a source of comfort and stability that held me together after his passing.

He deserves better from me and I owe it to him to treat our relationship with more respect.

What I’ve been doing with Peeta is unfair to Gale.

It’s unfair to Peeta and me as well, because he’s my grief counselor and we’ve been blurring the lines of what is his professional responsibility to me and what is this sincere friendship we’ve developed. I don’t want us to mess up this bond we created when he helped me begin to heal and I don’t want to make him feel like he’s taking advantage of his position because if I’m being honest, it’s been mutual on my end.

But now I know it’s time to step back and put an end to this risky little game we’ve been playing.

I can’t keep letting myself feel these things for Peeta because it will get me nowhere and ultimately end in heartbreak for someone. Or all three of us.

So at the next session I have with him after our visit with Prim, I make sure to be as clear as I possibly can about what our relationship needs to be from now on.

When I first get there, I can tell he feels a little awkward seeing as how the last time we saw each other we almost started making out, but he still has that comfortable ease talking to me and that boyish charm I always find so endearing.

When he asks me about Prim or any other personal questions I give him short, one word answers.

When he asks me if I’ve kept up with writing in my journals as a part of my therapy I just nod my head and don’t offer him any other information besides that.

When he tells me Haymitch informed him that the judge that will be reviewing my case is an old friend of his and that means we’ll get a decision sooner rather than later, I just nod my head plainly.

The longer I keep this up, the more I can tell that his spirits start to fall, that he doesn’t understand what’s wrong and that he’s genuinely hurt by my actions. It breaks my heart to know I’m the cause of that hurt look on his face.

I have to keep reminding myself that this is for the best. 

I almost make it to the end of the session without having to explain myself. It’s excruciating, knowing I’m hurting him, knowing that a part of me doesn’t want this at all, but I know it’s necessary so I persist.

He, however, seems to get fed up with my sudden inability to communicate and calls me on it.

“Katniss is something wrong? If I did or said something to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable you can tell me. I would never want to cause you any pain or make you feel like you can’t talk to me. And I’m so sorry if I did.”

I bite down on my inner cheek hard as the sudden desire to break down into tears wells up inside of me. He sounds so earnest and genuinely perplexed over my actions that I start to really question what I’m doing.

“I’m fine,” I insist, softening my tone and hoping he sees that I’m not really mad at him or anything like that.

He’s not willing to let it go so easily though.

“Katniss, I think I know you well enough now to know when something is up,” he says, moving up out of his chair and coming to sit beside me on the couch.

It’s something we’ve always done, sitting beside each other rather than across, when we want to talk as friends and not as him being my grief counselor.

“Look, whatever it is, you can tell me,” he continues and I’m close to tears again, because in my mind I’m screaming that he is the one person who I can’t tell everything that I’m thinking right now.

I take a deep breath and try to compose myself.

When I still haven’t said anything after a moment, he speaks up again.

“Come on, do I have to bribe you with cheese buns?” He teases and the ache in my heart intensifies.

Finally, I decide I should just be straight with him. He deserves that at least.

“Peeta...” I begin at length, looking over at him and fiddling with my hands anxiously in my lap. 

“I...I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, truly. I would be lost without you. I certainly wouldn’t have a chance in hell at getting Prim back.”

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare back at me curiously with those ocean blue eyes that stir up a thousand different emotions within me.

“But I think....I think we need to keep things professional between us,” I barely squeak out the words, avoiding his eyes and feeling a knot start to form in my stomach.

“Oh...” he breathes out and when I look at him I see his hurt and confusion and all I want to do is throw my arms around him and tell him I don’t mean this.

But I can’t.

“I had a great time with you the other day, when we went to go see Prim, I really did,” I insist my fingers itching to reach out and touch him. “But I just...I don’t think we can keep going down the road we’re on. We can’t keep playing with fire,” I add quietly, hoping he understands what I’m trying to tell him. That I feel what’s between us, that’s it’s mutual, that a part of me wants him desperately, but there are just too many reasons why we can’t.

He runs a hand through his hair in exasperation and looks way from me. My chest tightens uncomfortably.

“And I can’t afford to focus on anything but getting Prim back,” I add weakly, “especially now.” I swallow the lump in my throat and lift my eyes just in time to see him turn away from me a little on the couch, resting his arms on his knees and putting his head in his hands.

“You’re right,” he agrees and although it’s what I wanted my stomach still feels like it has bottomed out at his words. “We’ve been walking a fine line between our professional and personal relationship and it’s my fault. I should have just focused on being your grief counselor, nothing more.” 

“It’s not that I’m not grateful for your friendship,” I whisper and my voice comes close to cracking. I clear my throat to try and cover it up. 

I hate this so much.

“I’m grateful too, but if this is what you want I understand,” he says, his voice lifeless and his face unreadable as he turns to look at me.

There is a part of me that I’m determined to ignore that is screaming that this is not what I want at all.

I look at him, remembering the way he was pressed up against me the other day, how close his lips were to my own. The scent of him, the heat of his body all around me, and the look in his eyes, a look that suggested he wanted to ravage me with bruising kisses, fills my mind and the memory is so achingly sweet it takes everything inside me clear my head to try and forget about.

I take a deep breath and look over at him, summoning every ounce of courage I have within me to get the next words out.

“Yes, it’s what I want.”

X

“Life sucks.”

It’s comical really, that those are the first words to come out of Johanna’s mouth since her sister passed away when she was taken off of life support, but they feel extremely appropriate coming from her.

The statement is so blunt and silly and out of the blue that it completely takes me off guard. I start laughing, a little chuckle that blossoms into a deep belly laugh that has me roaring with amusement. Johanna eventually joins me in my little fit of giggles and then we’re clutching at each other, overwhelmed with body-shaking laughs that leave us breathless.

I stood with her at her sister’s bedside just hours earlier as the doctor and nurses came into the room to explain to us that they would turn off the machines that were breathing for her and feeding her. They explained that her body would shut down and then that we would have as much time as we needed to say goodbye.

It was surreal watching someone die, seeing them take their last breath before the life goes out of them. I think I could feel the exact moment it happened. It was like her soul or her spirit or whatever you want to call it just disappeared and suddenly the room felt different, colder.

Johanna, to my surprise, didn’t shed a tear. She reached down and grabbed my hand as the doctors turned off the machines and just squeezed it tighter as they left the room and her sister passed away. 

Her breathing got quick and shallow as she watched her sister leave this world, but she never broke down. She let go of my hand, leaned down to press a kiss to her sister’s forehead, and then walked out of the room. 

I was a little dumbfounded that she was handling everything so well. 

On the ride back to my apartment I kept looking over at her in the passenger seat, but she remained silent. It wasn’t until I opened the door to my apartment, tossing my purse on the table and asking her if she wanted anything to eat that she finally broke down.

She collapsed onto the couch in my living room and started sobbing and shaking. 

So I did the only thing I could. 

I crawled onto the couch beside her, pulled a blanket over us and held her together as best I could. 

Eventually her tears stopped and we fell into an easy silence. 

That is until just now when Johanna decided to speak up and so eloquently state what I think we all think at some point or another.

Once our laughter finally quiets down I lean my head against her shoulder and take a deep breath.

“Yeah, life does suck sometimes,” I agree.

“It’s weird,” Johanna begins, picking at a loose thread in the blanket, “I didn’t feel any differently when it happened, when they took her off of life support. I mean, I just kind of felt the same way that I’ve been feeling since it first happened.”

I lift my head to stare at her curiously, but she just continues to pluck at the blanket.

“She’s gone now, I know that. And it’s almost a relief that it’s finally over. It’s not hanging over my head anymore.”

“That’s good,” I encourage her.

“Just....god, why does it have to hurt so fucking much?” She sniffs out, silent tears streaming down her face.

I take a moment to really contemplate her question. 

“It hurts cause you love her,” I respond after a moment. She doesn’t look up at me, I’m sure tempted to just shrug me off as offering empty words of comfort, but suddenly a thought goes through me like fire and the next words spill out of me.

“It hurts, because you’re always going to hurt when you love something or someone. There’s no getting around it. Pain and loss are unavoidable, but that doesn’t mean we stop loving.”

Johanna turns and looks at me, eyes narrowing as I continue.

“The thing is that it’s worth it though, right? The time you got with your sister, the love you guys shared, all the memories growing up together. You would never give those back, you would never wish that it didn’t happened just so you wouldn’t have to feel the pain you’re feeling now. I guess pain is the price of love, and it sucks, but it’s worth it.”

When I finish I’m tempted to look away from Johanna’s intense scrutiny but I don’t. She studies me carefully like I suddenly sprouted another head, but I don’t regret saying it. It’s funny how sometimes things can just hit you all of the sudden. And maybe it took being on the outside looking in on a situation I’ve been through myself to really see it.

But now I understand and appreciate the way it works. I realize that the loss of my father was so unbearable because I loved him so deeply. I realize that my mother became incapacitated after his death because he was the love of her life, her everything. And I know that I would never change a thing. That the time I did get with him was perfect and wonderful and I’ll be forever grateful.

Finally, Johanna lets out a little chuckle. “Damn Katniss, you sound just like Sunshine. I guess all those extra one-on-one sessions are starting to pay off,” she teases and at the mention of Peeta I flush a little and look away. A knot forms in my stomach full of longing and guilt when I remember our last session together, how I pushed him away.

“Uh oh, what’s that look about?” She questions, picking up on the change in my mood.

“Nothing,” I try and shrug her off, but she’s persistent.

“Don’t say nothing. Tell me,” she demands. “I want something to distract me for a little bit. And whatever is going on with you and Peeta sounds quite intriguing.”

I huff out a breath of air and smile at her. “So you’re going to guilt trip me into telling you?

“Damn straight,” she laughs.

“There’s nothing going on between us,” I admit carefully, truthfully. “I mean...we’re friends...”

Johanna laughs, her eyes lighting up for the first time since we left the hospital.

“Oh wow, brainless, am I going to be the first to break this to you? Peeta has had a hard on for you basically since he first laid eyes on you,” Johanna crassly explains.

I feel myself flush a little, but roll my eyes at her.

“It...it doesn’t matter what he feels...or might I feel,” I mumble, that familiar discomfort, like a weight pressing down on my chest, returning when I think of Peeta, “it’s not happening...it can’t happen.”

Johann looks at me, her face pinched together in confusion.

“What the hell are you talking about? Why can’t it happen?” She asks, totally perplexed.

“Um because I have a boyfriend?” I respond, wondering how she can just ignore the obvious.

She lets out an exasperated sigh, looking almost annoyed. “Look, I’m not telling you to be a harlot,” she explains carefully, “but you can’t just ignore what you feel and hope it goes away. You owe it to Gale and to Peeta, and most of all to yourself, to think about what you really want.”

I consider her words, knowing that she’s right and hating it. 

“Staying with someone out of obligation rather than love isn’t noble. It’s stupid. And it’s unfair to both of you.”

I open my mouth to respond, but find I don’t have anything to say. I know what she’s saying makes sense, but it’s still a little daunting to think about. I don’t know if I’m ready to take that kind of leap of faith, that huge risk of leaving behind the comfortable and familiar to put myself out there to face the unknown.

“Just think about it, brainless,” Johanna says, patting my knee reassuringly before getting up off the couch and moving to my kitchen to look through my fridge.

X

“What do you want to drink?”

I hesitate a moment before answering. 

Gale has his hand wrapped around my waist, his ear hovering near my mouth to hear my answer over the noise of the bar. I decide that I want something a little stronger tonight, something to take the edge off, something to help me let loose after the week of second guessing and doubt and inner turmoil.

“Vodka and tonic,” I tell him and he pulls away and gives me a small smile.

“I’ll find us a table,” I say as we part ways.

At the table I look around anxiously, wondering if I’ll spot any familiar faces.

I’m glad to get a chance to go out tonight with Gale. He so rarely has the time or energy to really go out anymore with all the hours he’s been working and it’s nice to have this time together. A small voice in my head is always questioning, always wondering if I’m just not doing enough, not putting in enough effort when it comes to our relationship. The guilt pulls on me and keeps me from truly exploring my feelings for Peeta, knowing that I could never be that selfish to completely disregard my best friend and this relationship, that at the end of the day Gale will always be important to me no matter what.

“Hey Katniss.”

I turn at the sound and am greeted with a familiar face.

“Hi! Annie, right?” I say to the girl who I remember from when I first started attending group therapy with Peeta. Her bright smile is all the confirmation I need and we exchange a quick hug.

She looks...amazing.

I remember her being pretty, but she looks beautiful. She has the prettiest smile and a light in her eyes that is such a drastic change from the broken girl I first met all those months ago. A familiar feeling of gratitude for the way Peeta helps people and changes their lives for the better hits me. I try and push it down though because thinking of him right now is too hard.

It’s only then do I notice the guy by her side. Tall, sea green eyes, bronze hair and the toned, strong body of guy who clearly takes care of himself. He smiles at me and offers his hand that I shake.

“Hey Katniss, nice to meet you. I’m Peeta’s roommate, Finnick.”

He must register the look of surprise on my face, my eyebrows going up and my mouth forming into the shape of a small “o”. 

He laughs, and slips his arm around Annie’s waist. “Uh oh, I know that look. He must have mentioned me before. Let me assure you that everything he has ever told you about me is a complete lie. I’ve always been a perfect angel.”

Annie rolls her eyes, but looks secretly amused as Finnick stares down at her with a smile. He presses a kiss to her temple and then looks back at me.

“Yeah, he might have told me a story or two,” I admit with a laugh. 

“So how are you doing?” Annie asks, looking genuinely interested. “I was worried when you stopped coming to group sessions, but then Peeta told me he was still seeing you just one on one.”

“Yeah, I’ve been good,” I tell her with a smile. “I mean, Peeta has been really great. Amazing, actually. He’s helped so much,” I find myself gushing over him without really realizing it. 

Annie and Finnick share a look, but it’s so brief I wonder if I imagined it.

“Oh yeah,” Annie agrees, “you don’t have to tell me how great Peeta has been. He’s helped me more than I thought possible.”

“And if it wasn’t for Peeta the future Mrs. here might not have ever given me a chance,” Finnick adds, pulling Annie tighter against him. 

Annie looks like she’s fighting to keep a smile off her face as Finnick gazes at her adoringly.

“Oh, are you guys...” I trail off, unsure if I missed them mentioning that they’re engaged.

“No,” Annie responds immediately.

“Not yet,” Finnick corrects here with a smug grin. “But if I have to beg, bribe or grovel hopefully it will happen one day.”

Annie laughs as Finnick places a loud, wet kiss on her cheek and then she playfully pushes him away.

“He’s a little over eager,” Annie explains and I can’t help smiling at the pair of them, so clearly in love.

I’m hit with a sudden, brief feeling of jealousy, that they have each other, that they are so sure about what they feel for one another. I wish so badly that I had that. I wish that I was sure and that things were simple, clear cut and black and white.

“Be gentle, I’m a man in love,” Finnick pouts.

Annie gives him a quick kiss and then looks back to me. “It was great seeing you Katniss. We’re going to go get a drink, hopefully we see you around!”

“Thanks, you too,” I smile at the pair as they turn to go.

Before they disappear into the crowd though Finnick turns back to me with a playful smirk. He moves closer to me, eyeing me carefully.

“Just so you know,” he begins, “Peeta talks about you a lot. Like...a lot,” he emphasizes the last part, grinning at me. “I’ve never seen him like this before,” he adds, before pulling away and giving me a playful wink.

Before I have time to respond though he turns and rejoins Annie, grabbing her hand and leading her through the crowd.

I sit there for a moment wondering if Finnick really meant what he said or if he was just pulling my leg. The thought of Peeta caring for me (as much as I’m scared that I care for him) is completely overwhelming and exhilarating at the same time. I almost don’t want to let myself believe that he could really feel that strongly for me because if that’s not the case I don’t think I can bare that letdown. But if he does, if he really feels that way, I don’t know if I have it in me to keep pushing him away any longer.

I must start to daze off in my own little world, caught up in the possibilities of ‘what ifs’ when Gale approaches the table and sets my drink down.

“Catnip!” He says, waving his hand in front of my face to get my attention. “Hope you were daydreaming about me,” he jokes when he takes a seat beside me.

I laugh him off and take a generous sip of my cocktail, hoping to hide the flush of guilt that hits me from his statement.

“Oh hey, here they are,” Gale announces a little while later as his buddies from the firm, Cato and Marvel, show up. They join us at our table and we make small talk for a little while, or I should say they talk about work and I nod politely and pretend to be interested.

Gale, to his credit, must sense my lack of interest and leans over to me during a break in the conversation. He puts his hand on my my leg and leans in to whisper in my ear.

“Sorry to bore you with work talk,” he says rubbing his hand up and down my leg suggestively. “I’ll make it up to you when we get home,” he adds and then pulls away from me with a grin.

I offer him a weak smile, but avoid his eyes. “At least buy me another drink first,” I joke and he roars with laughter.

When my drink arrives, so does another person from Gale’s work, the blonde secretary at the firm, Glimmer, and her friend Clove.

I remember meeting her once at this bar a while back. She seems nice enough, but doesn’t really feel like the kind of girl I would get along with very well.

“Hey guys!” She greets Cato and Marvel first before introducing her friend Clove to the rest of us.

She says hi to Gale to and me, but she doesn’t meet either of our eyes and it feels insincere. I don’t think twice about it though because her whole platinum blonde, way too much makeup thing reeks of insincerity anyways. Also, she seems to make a point to focus all her attention on either Cato or Marvel the whole time, talking to them directly or being enthralled by whatever they have to say.

I’m quickly losing interest in the conversation again and when my gaze starts to wander around the bar it falls on a sight that makes my heart constrict painfully.

There, at the entrance of the bar, across the way I spot Peeta arriving with his friend Delly.

His eyes are glazed over and the relaxed look on his face tells me that he has been drinking prior to even getting here tonight.

He looks a little out of it, sadness etched into his features as he follows Delly over to the bar.

I want to run over to him, throw my arms around him and tell him that I take back everything I said at our last session. 

But I don’t. I just sit in my seat, and watch him order a drink with Delly at the bar until they move across the room to meet up with Finnick and Annie. They each give him a hug and my heart aches as I watch them. I’m thankful that he has people around him that care and are supporting him right now because I can sense something is wrong. 

That ever present light in his eyes seems to have vanished and he moves with slow, lethargic movements, although I’m not sure if that’s the alcohol or something else.

I notice Delly glance over in my direction from across the room and I immediately look away, not wanting to be caught.

I was lucky enough to watch and observe him without being noticed, but I don’t want him to know I’m here just yet. 

I’m not ready to face him.

“Katniss!” 

Gale’s voice startles me out of my thoughts and brings my attention back to the table and away from Peeta momentarily.

“Hey, we’re going to go play pool, you want to join?” He asks.

“No, I’m okay, have fun,” I tell him as he plants a kiss on my cheek and then joins his co-workers as they head over to the pool tables on the other side of the bar.

I realize that I’m left at the table with just Clove and Glimmer who are now immersed in their own conversation, heads bent low as they whisper quietly to each other. I don’t really mind them pretending like I’m not here though because it gives me a chance to be alone with my thoughts. 

When I glance back over in the direction of Peeta across the bar I find that I can no longer see him through the crowd of people.

Either he moved to a different spot or this place is really starting to fill up. Probably both. 

I grab a cocktail waitress’s attention and ask for another drink and when it comes I take generous sips despite already feeling the vodka’s effects from my first drink.

I swirl the ice cubes around my glass with the extra-thin straw and let my mind wander.

I think about what Johanna said to me the other day.

I think about what Finnick just hinted at a little while earlier.

I make myself reflect on these things in this rare moment I have for contemplation. I start to wonder if I am doing the right thing by simply ignoring how I feel for Peeta and choosing Gale regardless. I wonder if Peeta also feels this fire in his veins when we touch. I wonder if I’m just holding back from the possibility of us because it’s so new and so intense it scares me. I wonder if I’m just afraid because I know this could change everything. I know nothing would ever be the same if I went down this path.

The alcohol has found its way through my bloodstream and back again by this time and I feel light and uninhibited. I notice Clove and Glimmer have gotten up to use the bathroom, but I could care less that I’m left here at the table all alone.

It lets me daydream in peace.

I let myself remember the feel of his body against mine, his warm breath all around me, how his lips were so close, but so far away.

When I close my eyes I picture him and me alone, touching, teasing, caressing. Just the thought is enough to make me clench my thighs together in a weak attempt to calm myself. There’s no point though because now I can’t stop imagining what he looks like shirtless or how he might feel in my hand, warm and hard.

I instinctively lick my lips and realize I can’t ignore the fact that just thinking about Peeta in this way makes my blood burn hotter than it ever has any time Gale and I have been together.

When I open my eyes I remember all of the things that makes Peeta who he is, that made me care about him so much in the first place. His huge heart, his gentle soul, his kind eyes, and the fact he never gave up on me. 

I swallow hard, overwhelmed with emotion.

Suddenly, I need to see him. I need to talk to him.

There are a thousand words I want to say and things finally seem clear in my head for once.

I jump up off my stool and start to meander my way through the crowd. 

I work my way to the other side of the bar, pushing and swerving through the bodies that block my path. 

When I still haven’t found him my desperation increases.

I feel anxious, the desire to see him pressing on me like a weight on my shoulders.

The things I said to him the last time we spoke taunt me, and I wish I could take them back, wish he could know that I didn’t truly mean them.

Finally, I think I catch sight of his friend Delly over near the dance floor.

I squeeze through a group of people, fighting my way towards that direction when I see him.

My entire world comes crashing down around me.

Next to the speaker in the corner of the room, back pressed up against the wall is Peeta.

He’s not alone though.

He’s kissing someone. A short girl with light brown hair. Her arms are locked around his neck. He has a hand tangled in her hair and a hand on her lower back, pulling her against him.

I watch them with a mix of horror and surprise, staring at them wide eyed and mouth slightly ajar. My feet feel like lead, like I’m stuck to this spot on the floor, doomed to forever watch this passionate embrace that makes me feel sick to my stomach.

They don’t even come up for air.

They attack each other with open mouths, tongues occasionally peeking out as they bump and grind against one another.

My throat feels dry, my heart pumps furiously in my chest, and a voice in the back of my head is screaming at me to run away, to leave before I get caught watching this unfold.

I can’t though, I can’t do anything but continue to watch, tears threatening to fall as I try to swallow back the lump in my throat.

It’s when I see Peeta’s hips jerk slightly forward, pressing into this nameless, faceless girl that I cover my mouth in a desperate attempt stop the cry of anguish from escaping my lips. I watch as they finally drag their lips away from each other and the girl buries her head in the crook of his shoulder, planting kisses against his skin. Peeta leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes.

I always thought that the term heart-broken was hyperbole.

But now, as I finally manage to back away from the scene in front of me, I’m not so sure. A piercing pain in my chest, so real and so deep that it evolves until it feels like it is hurting me all over, like a tiny crack that fissured out into a million tiny little breaks, threatens to make me break down completely.

I don’t though. I bite my tongue - hard - to stop the tears from coming and run away from what I just saw like my life depends on it.

It’s ironic, I think with a sad, bitter laugh, that the man who got me to open my heart up again is the one to shatter it entirely. 

I start pushing through the crowd of people in the bar, bordering on panic in my attempt to get as far away from them as possible. 

I’m so close to losing, I want cry and scream over what I just saw, but I know I can’t. I know I shouldn’t. I know I have no right to.

We were never going to be together.

I tell myself this over and over again to try and stop the ache in my chest that threatens to choke the life out of me. Peeta is my grief counselor and my friend. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s how it always was and how it will always be.

Besides, a nasty voice in the back of my mind speaks up, you had already made your choice. You did this. You pushed him away and chose Gale.

Gale.

Now I’m practically knocking people over in my attempt to navigate the crowd. I make my way towards the pool tables where I see him leaning over to take a shot.

He stands up and says something to Cato after he finishes shooting, laughing before moving to the nearby table to take a sip of his beer.

He notices me when I’m a few feet away.

“Hey! I was wondering where you went.”

I throw my arms around him and kiss him until I’m breathless, massaging his tongue with my own.

When he finally pulls away he has both hands on my hips, looking at me curiously.

“Whoa,” he says with a little chuckle. “What was that for?”

“Let’s go home,” I plead before bringing my lips to his again. 

He reciprocates, pulling me more firmly against him and molding his lips to mine.

“I want you now,” I whisper when we break away.

He stares back at me, his eyes searching my own, maybe to see if I’m serious. Maybe to see how drunk I am.

“Please,” I say, reaching for his belt buckle and tugging him towards me.

He turns to Cato and Marvel and tells him we’re leaving. 

When we finally make it into a cab and are on our way home, I close my eyes tightly, wishing the images of Peeta and that girl would disappear from my mind forever.

I kiss Gale in the dark backseat and stroke him over his pants.

X

“Katniss, are you sure?”

I pull Gale’s lips to mine again.

I want him to stop talking, to stop asking me that. 

I want to stop thinking.

“Yes, please,” I beg, reaching out to grasp him. He’s hard and long and the feel of him is making my center ache with need.

I take his hand and place it over my breast. He squeezes it and lets out a low groan in response. Then I pull his hand down my naked body and his fingers dip inside me, finding me wet and warm.

“I’m ready,” I tell him and I can tell he’s studying me carefully, trying to figure out what I’m thinking, trying to tell if I’m still drunk.

I’m not drunk though. I know exactly what I’m doing.

“Please,” I whisper again, reaching out to take his length and guiding his head over my clit.

He hisses in pleasure and I buck my hips in response.

Finally, he moves off of me and finds his pants on the floor. He pulls out his wallet and then returns a moment later with a condom.

When he puts it on I spread my legs, waiting for him to take me.

He does. Carefully, gently, slowly. He’s considerate and he presses kisses to my neck and asks if I’m okay. 

It hurts at first, a pinching sensation as my body tries to adjust to his size. 

It slowly dissolves into a pleasurable burn.

When his thrusts start to pick up I know I won’t be able to finish this way, but I want him to.

After he comes he tells me he loves me and then reaches down to my clit and helps me finish.

He falls asleep soon after.

I stay awake for a long time though, staring up at the ceiling, alone with my thoughts.

Alone with my memories of what transpired tonight.

The tears come in slow, steady streams.


	10. Chapter 10

I’m already four shots deep by the time I get to the bar with Delly.

The first thing we do when we get there is order drinks.

Perfect.

I don’t want to remember anything about tonight. I want to drown my sorrows with alcohol.

Finnick and Annie hug me when we see them. I guess Delly already told them.

I found out yesterday that my dad’s surgery was unsuccessful. That his tumor had almost doubled in size. That it had spread to his pancreas. That the only thing they could fucking do was close him right back up.

I avoid any questions. I avoid their eyes. I don’t want to see the pity there.

My heart has been ripped out. I feel nothing.

And the one person who could make me feel better, the one person who could fix this, doesn’t want me.

I guess that’s what I get though, right?

That’s what I get for falling in love with a girl who has already given her heart to another.

I feel like such a complete tool, letting it get this far. What the hell did I think was going to happen? That she would just ditch this guy she’s been dating this whole time and throw it all out on the line for me?

Part of me wants to be mad at her.

I want to be mad at her for making me fall in love with her so easily.

I want to be mad at her for not choosing me.

But I’m not, because I can’t. 

I can’t feel anything for her except overwhelming desire and it’s infuriating.

I’ve knocked back 3 drinks already when I see her.

Katie.

That girl from the gym who gave me head in the bathroom a few months ago.

She meets my eye and winks.

Fuck.

I walk straight over to her and pull her away from her group of friends.

“Hey stranger,” she says with a playful smirk. “You never called.”

“I work a lot,” I tell her, which is partially true. “I’ve been celibate.”

“That’s no fun,” she laughs.

“Come here,” I pull her over to the corner of the room, up against the wall near the speaker. It doesn’t exactly provide a whole lot of privacy, but at this point I could care less.

I grab her face with both my hands and kiss her.

I kiss her to forget.

I kiss her to try and feel something.

I kiss her because when the one person you want more than anything tells you they don’t want you it’s nice to feel desired.

We finally break away and I close my eyes as she starts kissing my neck.

“We could go back to my place,” she breathes against my skin.

I imagine going back to her apartment and fucking her senseless, losing myself in the temporary physical pleasure she could provide.

But then I imagine how I would feel after. 

I realize it doesn’t matter what I do with this girl, it’s not going to make me forget how I feel about the one who has my heart.

I grab her by the shoulders and push her away from me.

She looks at me confused, but I just shake my head.

“I can’t,” I tell her and I don’t wait for a response.

Instead I find myself running to the bathroom, where I empty the contents of my stomach, hunched over the toilet.

This night could not get any worse.

X

I am the most hungover I have ever been in my life. 

I feel sick.

I feel nauseous.

My head is pounding and I wish more than anything that all I have to deal with is the physical repercussions of my heavy drinking the night before and the shame and guilt I feel for hooking up with a girl who means less than nothing to me.

I feel dumb for trying to drink my problems away and disgusted for letting someone get so physically close to me when my heart and mind so clearly belong to another.

Unfortunately those are not the only things I have to worry about.

The feel of absolute dread, the feel of pain and anguish and fear and sadness sweeps over me all at once as I realize that things will not get better for my dad. That there is only one way his story is going to end.

I have already lost Katniss days earlier and now this.

I’m not sure how much I can take.

The only good thing is that the doctors are releasing my father from the hospital and ending care. My dad is over the moon about it, he is sick of staying in that hospital bed. 

They said he should spend what time he has left at home.

They said I should contact hospice sooner rather than later.

I stay in bed for a long time, as if somehow not getting out of bed to face the world will stop the inevitable from coming.

It doesn’t work.

X

A few days later and I still feel the sickening feeling in my stomach when I remember about my dad, about how he doesn’t have a lot of time left.

My eyes are constantly burning with tears, but I hold them back.

There is one good thing I have left to look forward to.

I have a one on one session with Katniss today. I haven’t seen her since last week when she told me that we should keep things professional, but I don’t care.

That memory still stings, but I know just seeing her will ease the pain a little, just being around her will make me feel a little better. And right now that’s all I can ask for.

“Come in,” I say when I hear a knock on my office door.

I look up and I’m surprised when Katniss walks through the door.

She never knocks anymore.

“Hey,” I say with a smile, hoping to sound friendly and normal. I don’t want her to think that I care about her any less just because our relationship is strictly professional now.

“Hi,” she says quietly, not meeting my eyes.

She moves over and sits on the couch, placing her purse down beside her. She folds her hands neatly in her lap and stares down at them.

“Umm...how are you doing?” I ask, trying to gauge her mood.

“Fine,” she responds simply, dusting invisible dirt off her skirt.

“Oh, okay...good,” I reply, wondering what’s wrong. She still hasn’t looked me in the eye yet.

“Have you talked to Prim lately?” I ask, hoping the topic of her sister will get her to relax a little.

“I talk to her almost every day,” she replies curtly.

I study her for a moment wondering where this change in her attitude is suddenly coming from. She’s even more distant then she was at the last session. The one where she told me that we had to keep things ‘professional’.

And maybe I’m imagining it, but she almost seems...annoyed...even mad at me.

“I have to leave early today,” she informs me, a cool, detached edge to her voice.

“Oh? What for?” I ask before I can think twice.

“I just do,” she responds, finally lifting her gaze to meet my eyes. I feel my chest tighten when I see the anger and pain in her eyes. 

I’m at a loss as to what to do or say. I’ve never seen this side of Katniss before, calm and composed, but right below the surface a boiling pot of anger and fury all directed at me. I search my brain for why she could possibly be upset with me, but I come up with nothing. 

“Umm...” I hesitate, not sure if going down this road will only make things worse. “Katniss...can I ask what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” She snaps at me and her voice is so harsh and her tone so unexpected I literally flinch, drawing back as if she’s just slapped me.

“Nothing is wrong, okay?”

She looks at me for a moment and I think I see tears swimming in her eyes before she quickly blinks them away.

When she turns away from me, I can see she has to take deep breaths to calm down.

I know she said that we need to keep things professional between us. And even though I didn’t want that, I understood it. I decided to respect her wishes and be nothing but her grief counselor from now on. 

But even last time when she told me that our personal relationship couldn’t continue there was kindness and a hint of sadness in her eyes. She was gentle and seemed to almost regret what she was saying. 

She was never angry like this.

“Okay...” I finally say after a while, “So what would you like to talk about today then?” I ask her, hoping that she will stop reverting back to her old habits, shutting me out and refusing to talk about what she feels.

“I don’t want to talk about anything,” she says stubbornly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Why not?” I challenge.

“I just don’t!” She snaps and she’s close to tears again. This time a few fall and she hastily wipes them away.

My heart feels like it’s being squeezed to the point of pain seeing her like this, knowing on some instinctual level that I’m at the root of whatever is going on here.

The only thing I can think of that changed between our visit to Prim that almost ended with us making out to her sudden fury at me now is the last session we had where she told me we had to keep things professional.

A thought suddenly goes through me that makes me both elated and disheartened all at once. I wonder if maybe she wasn’t as sure or confident in the decision to end our personal relationship as she tried to come across. I wonder if she regrets not being able to explore what could be between us as well. 

A jolt of excitement goes through me at the idea that she maybe does care about me more than I might think, that she maybe does feel what’s between us, that she wants it as desperately as I do.

But she’s made it abundantly clear that she’s going to fight it. That whatever we might have she doesn’t want to take the risk of exploring the possibilities. That she is going to stick with the promises she’s already made. That she has no intention of ending what she already has, what is already proven and safe and reliable.

“God, I don’t even know why I came today,” she says, shaking her head slightly.

She grabs her bag and moves to stand up from the couch.

But something inside me snaps. She doesn’t just get to walk away. She doesn’t just get to leave me hanging like this when all I’ve done is respect her wishes.

“You chose him.”

The words stop her dead in her tracks, her hand hovering over the door knob of my office door.

I stand up and come over to stand behind her.

“You chose Gale. And I respect that. But you chose him....” The words come out in a rush, my heart taking over despite my mind protesting that I shouldn’t say this. “If anyone should be hurt here it’s me.”

She turns around and faces me, her eyes searching me as I study the despair etched into her lovely features.

“You’re right, I did,” she says so quietly I have to lean forward to hear her. “Goodbye, Peeta.”

And when she turns and walks away, the door slamming shut heavily behind her it feels like much more than just a casual goodbye.

It feels like the end of something that almost was, but never will be.

X

“How are you feeling, Dad?”

A few days later I am finally getting my dad set up back in his house. I’ve brought a bunch of my clothes and things over so I can stay in the guest bedroom for a while. For however long he needs me to.

He’s currently in his old master bedroom, the TV on and a bowl of ice cream in front of him. 

And the one thing that makes this bearable instead of excruciating, the one thing that keeps me from breaking down because God do I want to, is the fact that for the first time in months my dad is happy.

He’s over the moon about being out of the hospital. Even though it means his cancer is past the point of help, even though it means his days are numbered.

“Great,” he shoots me a grin and takes a bite of his ice cream.

He certainly hasn’t lost any of his spirit despite all he’s been through. He took the news about his unsuccessful surgery like it was just a minor inconvenience. He could barely hold back his glee when the doctors told him they were releasing him from the hospital.

But despite his positive outlook, despite the fact he is certainly happy and okay with all this, he is getting weaker everyday.

I see it when he struggles to feed himself. 

I see it as his skin starts to show a hint of yellow.

“Do you want your pain pills now?” 

“Not yet,” he returns with a half smile, half grimace. “There will be time for that later I’m sure. For now I want to stay as lucid as possible.”

My stomach turns painfully. I don’t understand how he can be so calm about this. Every time he talks about his condition or the painful days ahead with such nonchalance I come close to ripping my hair out.

Part of me wants to scream and cry and just lose it any time I think about the inevitable, but I know I can’t. I know I have to be strong because he’s going to be strong and the last thing I want is for the time I have left with my dad to be full of sadness. I don’t want my dad’s final memories of me to be breaking down by his bedside and weeping uncontrollably.

He must see what I’m thinking. He’s always been able to read me so easily.

He pats the spot on the bed next to him.

I sit down and he reaches out and grabs my hand.

“Peeta...”

I can’t look at him. If I look at him I’m going to break down.

“Peeta..” he says again more gently.

The tears are starting to sting my eyes.

“Look at me son,” he asks softly and I know I have no choice now.

When I look up at him he has a sad smile on his face. He brings my hand to his lips where he kisses the back of it.

“For a grief counselor you’re handling this horribly,” he teases.

I laugh, an unexpected real chuckle that makes me feel better for a small moment.

“We can’t worry about what we can’t control, right?” He asks and I nod feebly in response. “All I want to do is enjoy the time I have left, okay?”

“Okay,” I agree sitting up to place a kiss on his forehead. 

“I’ll let you get some rest,” I tell him before quietly exiting his room.

When I walk down the hall towards the living room I hear the whispered conversation of my friends.

“Hey man,” Finnick says when he notices my presence. 

He and Annie are curled up on the couch sitting across from Delly on the leather recliner.

“How’s your dad?” Delly asks, getting up to come stand beside me.

“Alright,” I respond with a shrug. I don’t really want to talk about this. As much as I appreciate their support I’m just not ready to deal with what I’m going through yet.

Annie gets off the couch and comes over and gives me a hug.

“We’re here for you man,” Finnick says, standing up to join her and then putting his hand on my shoulder.

“I know...thanks guys.”

“What can we do for you Peeta?” Annie asks, her eyes filled with concern.

I lean against the arm rest of the couch, running a hand through my hair before crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Just being here is enough, really,” I tell them honestly. 

“This week has been hell,” I admit. It seems like everything has been going against me lately.

“Yeah, I was going to ask you about that...” Delly speaks up, eyeing me carefully. “I kind of got the feeling it was about more than just your dad.”

I flush a little and look away, hating that Katniss’ affect on me is that obvious.

“Yeah...” Finnick speaks up, “I got that too. It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain dark-haired, grey-eyed girl you happen to talk a lot about, would it?”

Damn It.

“Umm...” I avoid their gazes and stare at the ground. 

“Don’t be shy,” Annie speaks up, surprising me. “We all kind of figured out that you like her,” she says with a kind smile.

I look away, feeling awkward talking about this. I’m suddenly really self-conscious about what my friends actually think about me falling for Katniss.

“It’s just hard because I know there are these other factors to consider, these things that neither one of us can just take lightly. She has a boyfriend. I’m her grief counselor. It’s just sucks...” I trail off lamely. 

“I feel you man,” Finnick says, slapping me on the shoulder. “It must be torture wanting a girl who has a boyfriend. I don’t think I would have been able to handle it half as well as you are if Annie had been taken when we met.”

Annie rolls her eyes a little, but chuckles lightly. “You’re doing the right thing by respecting the fact she’s already with someone though, Peeta,” she tells me. “I’m sure it’s hard, but all you can do right now is to continue to be her friend and support her.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” I respond weakly. “We’re not exactly on the best terms right now.”

“What happened?” Delly asks.

I shrug, unsure at first how much I want to say, how much I want to tell them.

“She made it clear she wants to just keep things professional. And then at our last session together she basically stormed out of the room.”

They’re all quiet for a moment, not saying anything as they process what I told them. 

The longer the silence stretches on, the worse I feel.

Finally, Annie speaks up.

“Peeta if you guys felt something for each other then I promise you it didn’t just go away overnight for her. She pushed you away because she felt that’s what she had to do given the situation, the fact she’s already with someone. And if she’s acting out now that’s probably her frustration with the situation as a whole, not you.”

I consider what she says, chewing over the words and realizing that she actually makes a lot of sense. It makes me feel better for the moment and I’m hit with that familiar feeling of gratitude and affection for Annie’s presence in my life now.

“You’ve sure come a long way since that first group session,” I tell her kindly, hoping she knows how proud I am of her, how much it inspires me to see the progress she’s made.

I see a hint of blush color her cheeks as she looks away for a moment and tries to hold back her smile. “Well, I think I have you to thank for that,” she tells me.

Finnick clears his throat loudly and obnoxiously.

Annie bursts into laughter and stands up to rejoin him. She throws her arms around his neck and gives him a quick kiss on the lips. “I guess you helped a little too,” she says softly as if she meant the words only for him and forgot about the rest of us in the room.

“Annie’s right,” Delly speaks up. “Don’t get too down about it. If anything she’s going through the same struggle as you right now. She’s trying to work through her feelings for you while dealing with the guilt she probably feels considering she’s already in a relationship.”

I feel a little of the pressure ease off my chest and know that just being around my friends, hearing them talk me through what I’m currently dealing with has made a world of difference. I shoot Delly an appreciative smile and throw my arm around her shoulders.

“Thanks guys.”

“Anytime,” Finnick answers for everyone, making the girls laugh. “But I think that while your dad rests we should get out of here for a little bit and get something to eat. Get your mind off your lady troubles and you know, your general life troubles.”

I can’t help but chuckle a little. “Okay, let’s go,” I agree, grabbing my jacket off the back of the couch and feeling like some time with friends is exactly what I need right now.

X

When we get back from eating I’m feeling better than I have since I found out that my dad’s surgery was unsuccessful. Being with my friends was exactly what I needed. I needed to be around Delly’s constant sarcasm, Annie’s sweet disposition, and Finnick’s sense of humor. It helped me not forget, but at least not worry as so much, even it for only a little while.

I’ve just finished giving my dad his pain pills for the night, the really strong ones that knock him out almost instantly, when my cell phone begins to ring.

My heart almost leaps out of my chest when I see the name on the caller ID.

Katniss Everdeen

I take a few deep, calming breaths and try to compose myself a little before I answer.

A thousand possibilities of why she might be calling me right now run through my mind in that small time frame before I pick up. I can’t help getting my hopes up, that maybe she’s calling to tell me everything I want to hear.

“Hello?”

“Hi Peeta, it’s Katniss,” she replies, her tone clipped and formal.

My stomach twists painfully when a small part of me realizes that this call won’t be going like I want it to.

“Hey! How are you?” I ask eagerly, hoping she can tell how glad I am to hear her voice.

“I was calling with the hope that you could help me out with something,” she gets straight to the point, not even bothering with pleasantries. 

With every word she speaks that is so cold and distant and not at all like herself I feel her slipping farther and farther away from me. I want to reach out and grab her, hold on until I’m certain that the girl I fell in love with, the one who wanted to kiss me as badly as I wanted to kiss her, doesn’t disappear on me forever.

“Umm...okay,” I begin a little hesitantly. “What can I help you with?”

She’s silent for a moment and I hear her take a deep breath on the other side of the phone.

“I...I was hoping you could transfer me to a different grief counselor.”

Anger. Surprise. Despair.

A heavy mix of all of these emotions hit me so hard and so fast it’s like a punch to the gut and I literally have to take a moment to catch my breath.

“Um...uhh...why?” I finally manage to gasp out.

I can feel my throat start to tighten and the anguish start to boil dangerously under the surface, making me realize I’m close to breaking down. The thought of ending things with her for good, even our professional relationship is more than I can handle. I haven’t realized it until right now how desperately I need her in my life, how she has become like an extension of myself, as integral to my survival and function as my furiously beating heart.

“I just...” She pauses for a moment and I grasp on to the possibility that this is difficult for her as well. “I just think it would be for the best,” she says quietly.

“I don’t understand,” I protest. “Did I do something wrong? Something unprofessional? I thought we’ve made a lot of progress in the last couple of months.” 

“I’m thankful for what you’ve done for me,” she explains calmly, her voice back to being even and collected. “I just think it’s time for a change.”

“Katniss, I don’t think this is a good idea,” I insist, refusing to just let her walk away from me so easily. “We’ve already established a rapport and an effective treatment plan for you. Switching at this point could just set you back and not to mention the judge might have questions about you transferring this far into our time together.”

She’s quiet again and with every passing moment where she doesn’t say anything I know that there’s going to be no changing her mind. Katniss has decided what she wants to do and I’m not going to stop her from doing it.

“I’m sorry,” she replies and it’s like a knife twisting in my gut. “I would like to be transferred to a different grief counselor.”

I sigh in frustration, feeling like I could scream or cry at any moment. 

“Does this have anything to do with-?” I start to ask, wanting to call her on the fact that she’s making this decision after her choice to end our friendship, but she stops me almost immediately.

“No!” She says firmly. “This is about what’s best for me and I would appreciate it if you respected my wishes,” she explains, her tone becoming icy.

“Fine,” I huff out in agitation. “I’ll text you the name of another good counselor. His name is Marcus Aurelius, he works down at the community center on Main St.”

“Thank you,” she says and I can barely manage to get out a ‘you’re welcome’ between all my anger and frustration.

When our call ends, I don’t know if I’m more angry or upset. The two emotions battle for my attention the rest of the night and I finally fall into a restless sleep.

X

“Come in.”

I push open the door to Haymitch Abernathy’s office and I don’t try and hide my annoyance as I stomp up to his desk and take a seat across from him.

“Settle down, boy.”

I eye him angrily. I used to think it was amusing that he referred to me as ‘boy’, but now it only pisses me off.

“Don’t tell me to settle down,” I spit out at him. “I don’t know why the hell you demanded I come here today. I told you multiple times that I’m no longer Katniss’ grief counselor. She’s not my responsibility.”

Haymitch eyes me carefully, something that looks close to amusement playing in his eyes. “Yeah, yeah I heard your sob story already,” he waves me off. “I don’t know what the hell happened between you and sweetheart, but whatever it is I need you to suck it up and forget about it for a little while.”

Anger and agitation flare up inside me again and it’s hard to keep my composure. “And why the hell do I need to do that?”

“Because whether she gets her sister back or not depends on it,” he replies.

His words stop me dead in my tracks and all the rage and annoyance I had been feeling vanishes almost instantly as if it had never been there at all. My mind goes blank and everything that has happened between me and Katniss the past week disappears. I don’t think about her pushing me away or how angry and hurt and bitter I’ve felt because of it. All I can think about is getting Prim back where she belongs. With Katniss.

I swallow back my pride. “What can I do?” I ask sincerely and thankfully Haymitch has the good grace to let my sudden change of heart go unmentioned.

“I’m suppose to have a conference call with the judge reviewing her case this afternoon,” he explains. “He mentioned wanting to speak to her grief counselor to get a feel for her mental state, the kind of progress she’s made.”

I nod my head in understanding. “Of course,” I agree. “I’ll tell him whatever he wants.”

“Perfect,” Haymitch replies, picking up his phone. “Let’s do this then.”

He calls a number written on some papers in front of him and then leans back in his chair as he talks to the judge that he is old friends with.

“I appreciate you pushing this case through for me, Chaff,” Haymitch says leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, we were kind of on a time crunch because the lady she’s staying with now is moving.”

They continue to talk for a few moments and I feel myself getting nervous. Whatever I say here could determine whether or not Katniss gets her sister back, the one thing she wants more than anything in the world. I forget about my own feelings, every ounce of frustration and pain I’ve felt lately, and just focus on what I need to say to make sure this happens.

“Yeah, I got him right here,” Haymitch speaks up, breaking me from my train of thought. “Yeah he saw her for about 3 plus months,” he adds.

I swallow nervously and rub my sweating palms against my pants.

“Okay, I’m going to put you on speaker,” Haymitch says, pressing a button on the phone base before putting it back down in its cradle.

“Hello Mr. Mellark, it’s nice to speak with you,” Judge Chaff’s voice comes over the speaker loud and clear.

“Thank you, uh you...you too sir,” I get out, feeling my face flush when I stumble over the words. I can’t mess this up.

“I was hoping to speak to you about a Ms. Katniss Everdeen,” he begins, his tone formal, but warm and friendly.

“I’d be glad to,” I respond, pushing away my nerves. “What would you like to know?”

He asks me a lot of basic questions about the issues listed in Katniss’ file. He asks me what I thought her emotional and mental state were when she started coming to me and what they’re like now. He asks me about specific things we dealt with and focused on and what I saw as her greatest improvements. He asks specific things that have to do with her past, whether I think she’s abusing alcohol or drugs, whether she is a risk to self harm, and how I think she has processed her parents’ sudden and untimely deaths.

They’re all pretty basic questions that I would expect in a case like this. It isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with a judge or even lawyers in regards to someone I’ve been working with. I do my best to clear my mind and answer the questions honestly, focusing on the facts of the matter and nothing else.

It’s like my brain is on autopilot and I’ve completely switched into grief counselor mode. I talk to this judge with a detached, clinical method where I consider his questions and search my mind through the last couple of months to give him the best, most accurate answer. It’s like I’m talking about some nameless, faceless girl who’s story sounds vaguely familiar. 

It’s a good approach, I decide after a while, to think about this in terms of the facts of the matter rather than focusing on this being about Katniss and her sister. It keeps me from feeling too much pressure or letting my emotions get in the way.

I think I’m just about done with Judge Chaff’s questions, when he takes me completely off guard.

“You’re very thorough Mr. Mellark,” he tells me and I can’t help a small smile as I look up and meet Haymitch’s eyes across the desk. He’s leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching me with a small smirk. “It’s always much easier to deal with grief counselors than psychiatrists and I appreciate your assistance with this case.”

“Uh thank you sir,” I reply, “I’m glad I can be of some help.”

“Oh you’ve been more than helpful,” the older man laughs across the phone. “I was hoping, however, to get a more personal account from you regarding Ms. Everdeen.”

I swallow thickly, feeling my heart beat start to pick up just a little.

“Um okay?”

“I would like to hear more about what you’ve come to learn about what kind of person she is, her character so to speak,” he explains. “I always feel I get a better sense for someone when I hear about the personal relationships they’ve come to form with the people around them.”

“Oh....alright,” I manage to reply, my mouth suddenly going dry and my stomach tying itself in knots. I feel Haymitch’s eyes boring in on me as I try to collect my thoughts and consider what to say. 

Now that he’s asked me to tell him about my personal relationship with Katniss I flashback to the painful past few occurrences between the pair of us and all the anger and bitterness threatens to make a reemergence. I shut my eyes tightly and will those thoughts away. I can’t think about that now. I have to do this for her, I can’t screw this up. I have to make sure she gets her sister back. 

I let my mind travel back to the time when she started first coming to one on one sessions with me instead, after she got over her initial reluctance and we started to become friends. 

I remember her laugh and her smile.

I remember how she would tease me and ask questions no one else ever did.

I remember how for the first time in my life I felt like I had a connection with someone, a connection so real and intense it was just on a different level than the link I’ve felt with my dad or my friends all my life.

“Katniss is a really good person, sir,” I start off, finding it easier to continue when I hold onto those memories. “She loves her sister a lot and she would do anything for her. You couldn’t put Primrose in better hands, truly.”

When he doesn’t say anything right away I decide to keep going, decide that I have to get these words off my chest or I might explode.

“Katniss isn’t perfect. She’s had to deal with a lot in her life already, but she’s strong and she’s handled it as best she can. From getting to know her over these past couple of months I can tell you that she never does anything without her whole heart. When she cares about something she gives it everything she has. She can be stubborn and she makes mistakes, but she’s caring and giving and she never just thinks about herself.”

The words come out in a rush and when I finish I almost feel a buzzing near my ears as my heart pounds away in my chest. The silence in the room and over the phone lingers for a moment and I’m worried for a second that I’ve done or said too much, that I’ve crossed a line.

“It seems you feel strongly about Ms. Everdeen,” Judge Chaff says over the speaker, with a hint of amusement in his voice and I relax just slightly.

“She’s a great person,” I admit, ducking my head a little to try and avoid Haymitch’s gaze as a flush creeps up my neck. “I really would like to see her get custody of her sister. She deserves it.”

“Well, thank you for your honesty and your time, Mr. Mellark,” Judge Chaff responds and I let out a sigh of relief that I did it, that I got through it.

Now all I can do is just sit and wait and hope for the best.

Haymitch takes the phone off speaker and talks to Judge Chaff for a moment, telling him thanks and asking when we can expect a decision. In those moments before he hangs up though, in those moments I have to myself to reflect on what just happened, I’m hit with realization and clarity that makes me feel light and free and better than I have in weeks.

I’m irretrievably in love with Katniss Everdeen.

And I’m not ready to give up on her yet.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't express how much I appreciate all the support for this story. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter and I'll do my best to get the next chapter up soon. Thanks as always to my wonderful betas (WickedlyClever and Court81981)

Come follow me on tumblr! thegirlonpeetamellark dot tumblr dot com :)

Guilt. Anger. Most of all pain.

That's what I've been dealing with for the past week, although it feels like much longer.

Since I saw Peeta kis...with that girl at the bar...I feel as if everything I've always known has shattered to pieces around me.

I used to think I was a good person. I used to think I was strong. I used to think I was in love with Gale.

But now I'm not so sure, because if all those things were true I wouldn't have done what I did. I wouldn't have given myself to Gale on the pretense that I loved and cared for him, when now looking back on it, I realize I was just acting out in response to how it felt to see Peeta with someone else.

The guilt gnaws at me, consistent and heavy, and refusing to ease up not even for a moment. There is a pain in my heart and a weight on my chest that I haven't been able to shake since that fateful night. I'm mad at myself, I'm mad at Peeta, and it is a struggle to even look Gale in the eye.

I feel the divide between Gale and I growing wider everyday. Something feels wrong between us. I think he has started to realize my heart and mind aren't in the right places and he's stopped trying to make any advances. He's quieter now too and for some reason it feels like we're walking on eggshells when we're around one another.

The turmoil between us adds to my feelings of guilt, but the pain I feel, the longing mixed with sorrow, is all because of Peeta.

It always comes back to Peeta.

It was like some cruel, sick joke. Sitting in that bar, realizing Peeta was the one I wanted, realizing that I wanted to take that risk if it meant I got to be with him, only to find him in the arms of another. I had waited too long, missed my chance, and now I had to deal with my choices and their consequences.

At that last session we had together, when I couldn't even look at him, I was so mad and hurt and he had no idea why because he doesn't know I saw. He made sure to remind me that I actually had no right to be upset though, that I had pushed him away and picked Gale and he didn't owe me anything.

After that I knew I couldn't handle sitting in that room again, that I could never go back and pretend that things were normal between us. I could never open myself up to him again and let him see into my soul. Not as my friend and definitely not as my grief counselor.

Making that call to him asking to be switched to a different grief counselor was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I wanted to tell him that I love him and that I will be forever grateful for what he did for me. I wanted to scream that I had picked him, that I wish he had waited just a moment longer before deciding to give up on me.

In the end though I said none of those things. I was short and cold and demanded to be transferred despite his protests.

And now he is out of my life and I don't know if I'll ever be whole again.

I hear the familiar sound of keys in the lock at my door and I turn from my spot in the kitchen to see Gale coming inside.

"Hey," I greet him before returning my attention to the dirty dishes in the sink.

"Hi," he greets me tonelessly.

It's been like this for a while now. Something is wrong between us and I'm starting to suspect it has to do with more than just the whole issue of Peeta hanging over my head.

He has been distant and awkward and now that I'm thinking about it, it feels like it has been going on a lot longer than I even realized. I've only just noticed it now though because before I had been so caught up with the things I was starting to feel for Peeta.

And I didn't think it was possible to feel worse than I already do.

"Can I hop in your shower?" Gale asks me, putting his things down. "Rory and Vick used up all the hot water at our place."

"Yeah sure," I agree as he disappears into the bathroom.

When I finish up the dishes I move over to the couch and turn the TV on, entertaining myself for a while before Gale emerges from the bathroom with a towel around his neck that he uses to dry his hair.

He comes over to the living room and takes a seat in the chair adjacent to the couch instead of sitting next to me. I frown momentarily, but then shrug it off, returning my attention to the TV.

He doesn't say anything for a long time and then finally he speaks up.

"Katniss...I need to tell you something."

A jolt of fear goes through me, a sickening feeling blooming deep in my stomach. I sit up, studying him carefully, the way he's not looking at me, the way his head is hanging, his dejected body language.

"What...what is it?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

I feel my heart start to pound a little faster as I realize that it wasn't all in my head, that something is wrong between Gale and me and it's not only coming from my end.

"I...I did something..." Gale starts and then stops, obviously struggling to get the words out. I'm holding my breath, waiting until he finishes telling me whatever it is that I know I'm not going to like.

"I...the secretary at my office, Glimmer..." he swallows thickly and looks up to meet my eyes for the first time since he sat down and I brace myself for the blow. "...there was an office party...I was really drunk...it was just one time."

I double over in pain because it feels like someone just punched me in the gut. I'm shaking my head in disbelief and closing my eyes hoping I could go back to moments before when I didn't have to know this.

Anger. Betrayal. Disbelief.

That's what I'm trying to deal with in the moment.

Finally, I hear Gale's voice come back to me through a fog.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss. I'm so sorry. I wish I could take it back."

"What-" I finally manage to gasp out, realizing my face is wet with tears. "What did you do?"

He looks at me confused for a moment, trying to figure out what I mean. But then as realization sinks in as to what I'm asking he looks away, ashamed.

"We didn't have sex," he responds.

When he says those words a thousand images go through my mind of everything else he could have done with that bleached blonde slut.

I picture him kissing her, holding her, feeling her.

I picture her on her knees, taking him in her mouth.

Then I remember how he let her sit with us at our table that night at the bar, the way she sat across from me like she wasn't a whore that had hooked up with my boyfriend.

I feel the rage blind me. I want to kick and scream and pound against his chest until I break down. I want to collapse into a sobbing mess and let everything that I've been feeling for weeks all out.

It is on the tip of my tongue to tell him that we're done, to tell him to get the hell out and never come back. I'm just about to speak up too when images of Peeta and I over the past couple of months come back to haunt me.

Flirting.

Hugging so tightly not an inch separates us.

Holding hands.

Being mere moments from kissing if it had not been for an obnoxious neighbor.

And the words die in my throat when I realize I am far from completely innocent or blameless in this relationship.

"Please...please say something Katniss," I snap out of whatever daze I was in when I realize Gale is on his knees on floor in front of me, looking up at me with desperation.

Without meaning to, without realizing what I'm doing, I let the words slip because on some level I guess I want to hurt him right now in this moment as much as he has hurt me.

"I developed feelings for someone else."

He looks as if I have just literally slapped him he's so shocked and taken off guard by what I've said. He practically flinches, pulling back and looking at me in a completely different light then he had been moments earlier.

Moments ago he saw me like an angel that could grant him forgiveness and salvation.

Now he's looking at me like he's not sure who I am exactly.

I try to ignore the bitter, cruel part of me that is glad to see him feeling the pain that is eating away at me right now.

Finally, he regains his bearings and speaks up. "What...okay, okay...I don't..." he's struggling to remain composed, trying to figure out how best to approach this. "So what are you saying?" He finally asks, looking up at me through hooded eyes.

"I...I guess I'm saying that I haven't exactly been perfect either," I finally admit, because it's the truth, that's what stopped me from screaming at him that we were finished.

I see Gale relax a little as he realizes this conversation is not going to just be about the wrongs he has committed, that this discussion has gone in an entirely unexpected direction.

"So...so do you still have feelings for him?" Gale asks and I can tell he's dreading the answer.

Yes.

I push that thought away though because it feels too late for Peeta and me now. We've both made our decisions and we've both missed our chance to see what could have happened between us. That time has passed and I can't keep holding onto hope of something that never was and never will be.

"It doesn't matter," I tell him and I know that's not what he wanted to hear, but it's all I can give him at the moment. "We both messed up, okay? But that doesn't change the fact that you are a huge part of my life and I don't want to end things like this. We owe it to what we've meant to each other for so long not to give up yet."

"You're right," Gale agrees immediately, nodding his head. I can tell he doesn't exactly agree with me about everything but he's so desperate to grab onto the second chance I've given us. "I'm so sorry, Katniss."

He reaches out to pull me into a hug and there is less than half a second where I hesitate and nearly flinch away from his touch, but I correct myself almost immediately and hope he doesn't notice.

The way his face drops as he pulls me into his arms and how his voice is filled with sorrow as he speaks next however, tells me he did notice it.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss," he repeats as we hold onto each other and try and convince ourselves that things between us could ever really be the same.

X

The next day I decide to call into work sick. I stay in bed all day watching crappy TV and eating junk food.

I feel worse if that's possible.

I reach over to my nightstand to grab my cell phone and dial the number for the one person in this world who can make me feel better right now.

It rings three times and then I hear the breathless answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey little duck," I say with a smile. I need to talk to my sister right now, I need to feel her close and pretend that she's by my side through all of this.

"Katniss!" She squeals excitedly.

"How was school?"

"Oh you know, same ol' same ol'," Prim laughs. "I miss you," she adds after a moment and I feel my heart twist in my chest.

"I miss you too," I tell her through a shaky breath. "I told you our case was already sent to the judge though, right? We should be getting a decision any day now."

"I know you told me," Prim replies. "Oh, I'm so excited Katniss. I love Effie, but she can be a little much sometimes," she adds with a laugh.

I want to tell her not to get her hopes up, that we don't know if the judge will give me guardianship yet, but I don't have it in me to put a damper on her spirit.

So instead I just say, "I know, I'm excited too."

There is a long moment of silence that hangs between us, but it's not uncomfortable. It's just nice to hear her breathing and know that she's with me right now and I'm with her even if we're separated by distance and circumstances beyond our control.

"So...how's Gale?" Prim asks after a while and my heart starts to speed up and my palms start to sweat.

"Gale?" I ask nervously.

"Yeah, you know, your boyfriend?" Prim laughs. "Lived down the hall from us since we moved there," she elaborates.

"He's fine," I say evasively.

"And how are you guys?" She persists.

When did she get so noisy and intuitive, I wonder briefly. I debate over how to answer this question for a moment before finally deciding on just answering it honestly.

"Gale and I...we're going through a little bit of a rough patch if I'm going to be honest," I admit.

She's quiet for a long time on the other end of the phone and I start to think that maybe I shouldn't bring Prim into the mess that is my personal life. She already has enough on her plate.

"We'll be okay though, promise," I tell her to try and ease her worries.

She still doesn't respond and I'm about to ask her if something is wrong when she finally speaks up.

"And uh..what about you and Peeta?"

The question completely throws me. Peeta is the very last thing I expected her to bring up.

"What about us?" I ask carefully, wondering where she's going with this.

She huffs out a big breath of annoyance and I can practically picture her rolling her eyes at me.

"I'm not stupid, Katniss," she tells me plainly and I find I have no words.

"I remember that day at the park, the way you two looked at each other. It's like I told you when you guys dropped me off at Effie's at the end of the day, he makes you happy," she explains simply.

Suddenly there is a ball of emotion in my throat that is making it impossible to say anything and impossible not to lose my composure.

"So what are you saying?" I finally whisper as the memories of that day I spent with Peeta at the park hit me full force. I remember the way he caressed my face, the way he opened up to me, the sexual tension between us. Everything about that day was perfect. I've never felt closer to someone in my life and just thinking about it now and knowing how it just all fell apart after that makes me ache with pain and longing.

"I'm saying I love Gale," Prim begins. "But if I'm going to be perfectly honest I never understood why you guys started dating. I always thought you guys were better off as just friends. You are both too much alike."

I laugh, a cold and bitter chuckle, as I realize that it's taking my baby sister to voice something I should have known a long time ago, something I think I always did know, but just didn't want to deal with.

I fight through the tears that are making it hard for me to speak. "And you're just telling me this now?" I tease her.

She laughs and the sound makes me smile.

"I was hoping you'd come to realize it yourself someday," she defends herself.

"I just want you to know that I've never seen you the way you were with Peeta. I've never seen blush like that, I've never seen your eyes light up, I've never seen you so clearly want something and have no idea how to hide it."

That does it. I'm crying freely now, wishing I could go back to that day at the park and relive every moment, get back what I felt when I was with Peeta because the fact it's gone and lost forever now is too much to handle.

I'm quiet for a while as I wipe the tears away and try and regain the ability to speak. Prim is nice enough not to say anything until I've composed myself.

"I love you little duck," I finally manage to speak.

"I love you Katniss," she responds, "and I just want you to be happy."

And I tell her that she makes me happy and I would be lost without her because it's the truth and to think about anything else in the moment hurts too much.

X

A few days later Gale comes over when I'm in the middle of making dinner.

"Hey," he greets me as he puts his work things down by the door.

"Oh hi," I reply, bringing over the pasta to the strainer in the sink.

It's been like this since we admitted our...transgressions...to each other. We're awkward and distant and part of me wonders how long we can keep this up, pretending things are okay.

"Can I help you with dinner?" He asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Um, I'm actually just finishing up," I tell him and I see the way his face falls just slightly, like me not wanting his help is another indication of how rough things are between us right now. "But umm...you can clear off the table and set out the plates," I offer weakly and he jumps at the chance.

He's gathering the mail and other paper that has accumulated on the dining room table when I see him hesitate, staring down at something in the mess of paper.

He reaches down and picks up a small white card.

"Peeta Mellark..." he says the name and my stomach bottoms out and I feel my hands start to shake.

He stares at the business card for a while, studying it carefully. He slowly flips it over to the back side and I see his eyes go wide at the numbers that are hand written there.

He looks over at me with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. He is slowly putting things together, but he isn't ready to jump to conclusions just yet.

"Peeta Mellark...he's your grief counselor, right?" He asks me for confirmation, "the guy I met at the bar that one time?"

I can only nod my head in response, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Why is his cell phone number on here, Katniss?" He asks and I notice the slight change in his tone as it gets harder, sharper. His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare a little as he has to work to control his breathing.

I know he doesn't want to say it, but considering how I'm not responding he's not going to have a choice. And maybe part of me wants him to be the one to say it so I don't have to, so I don't have to acknowledge it.

"Was he the guy, Katniss? The one you said you had feelings for? Or maybe you still have feelings for him?" Gale asks, his anger making it hard for him to keep it together.

I cross my arms in front of my chest defensively and take a couple of cautious steps towards him.

"What do you want me to say?" I shrug. "I'm not going to apologize for having my grief counselor's phone number."

I can tell my refusal to answer his questions only upsets him more and he throws down the card in disgust, making a sound of disbelief.

"This is un-fucking-believable," he spits out. "It's nice to see he didn't take advantage of his position of authority with you!"

Something inside me snaps. I feel the anger surge through me at the harshness of his tone, at his accusations, at the fact that he has the nerve to be upset with me after what he did. I hate that he's trying to suggest that Peeta just used his position as my grief counselor to get close to me. I hate that he thinks he knows Peeta well enough to question what his intentions were when he was trying to help me get better. I'm the one who knows him. I know what was Peeta being my grief counselor and what was him being my friend.

And now I've lost them both, I remind myself.

"You have no right, Gale! Not after what you did with that blonde slut!" I shout at him, needing to release this pent up anger I feel towards him, this rage I never let out after he admitted what he had done the other night.

His face falls just slightly when I bring up Glimmer, but he doesn't lose any of his rage. "I was drunk out of my mind!" He shouts at me, a bit of desperation and remorse and sadness creeping into his voice and features. "It didn't mean a god damn thing to me and I felt horrible about it immediately!"

He takes a deep shuddering breath and then looks at me with hurt, conflicted eyes. "But I never gave her part of my heart, Katniss. I never had any real feelings for her."

His words settle over me and I feel them twisting at my gut, shame and sorrow mixing in my heart and expanding, making me feel his pain. I hear the unspoken meaning behind his words: that in a way, my sin was worse, my transgression far more grave because it wasn't a one time drunken hook up, it was real and emotional and a lot more meaningful.

I swallow the lump in my throat and look down at the floor.

"What do you want me to say?" I ask with a shrug, holding my hands out helplessly. "That I'm sorry he helped me heal? That I'm sorry he helped me get better?"

Gale makes a sound like a scoff and a sigh. He shakes his head helplessly and just continues to look back at me, the betrayal clear in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I squeak out, knowing he deserves to hear this from me. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't set out to make a connection with him. I had to do this to get my sister back," I tell him honestly. The next words fall from my lips before I can think better of it and after they've been said I know I cannot take them back, that maybe I don't want to.

"I never meant to fall for him," I say in a sad whisper.

His eyes dart up to meet mine as we both slowly realize what I just said. The weight of my words creates an uncomfortable tension in the room and then it's like I'm trapped, unable to look away from his angry glare.

And he should be angry, furious even.

Because I just admitted I'm in love with Peeta Mellark.

His eyes are wide, shocked and blinded with rage as he stands there, taking in everything that just transpired.

In an instant he reaches out for a coffee mug on the counter and turns, hurling it against the opposite wall where it hits and then shatters to pieces, falling to the floor.

I'm frozen, terrified as I stand there watching him, waiting to see what he'll do next. He turns back to me and stares at me coldly, his breath coming out in ragged gasps, his chest heaving up and down.

In the next moment he lets out a guttural cry, a scream so full of sorrow and fury it's nearly barbaric. I flinch away from the sound and when he finishes he collapses into the chair at the dining table.

I move towards the couch in the living room and sink down onto it numbly, still not sure how to process what just happened.

We're both quiet for a long time.

Neither of us saying anything, too caught up in our own despair and dazed from what just transpired to think clearly.

Finally, he is the first one to speak up.

"This is not going to work is it?"

And I'm surprised by how much those words hurt to hear, even if I know they're true, even though I've been expecting this for a while.

"I'm sorry," I manage to gasp out through the tears that have started to fall. "I never meant to hurt you."

He sighs and gets up from his seat at the table, coming over to sit beside me on the couch. He puts his arm around me and I don't hesitate to curl into his body, appreciating the comfort and familiarity of him.

"I know you didn't, Catnip," he says softly. "And I never meant to hurt you either, but I don't think we can keep pretending anymore. Things haven't been the same between us for a while."

I let a small sob escape as I realize that this is really happening, that I'm losing my best friend, that everything we put into our relationship, into actually dating for more than a year, has been for naught.

"I love you," I tell him because it's true and because I want him to know that he will always mean something to me.

"Love you too," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to my hair. "I just don't think we're cut out for a relationship," he says with a sad attempt at a little chuckle.

And even though on some level I knew this was coming, even though part of me wanted this, it doesn't make any of it hurt any less.

We just hold each other for the rest of the night, not saying anything, just clinging to what we once had and realizing that we've lost it all now for good.

X

For the next couple of days I feel a bit strange.

It's almost like I'm walking around in a daze, confused by the mix of emotions I'm experiencing.

There is a part of me that feels relief, that is happy that Gale and I realized we were not good together romantically and we couldn't keep up the charade any longer. It feels good not to have that weight on me anymore, not to feel the conflict over my relationship with him that had been plaguing me for weeks.

At the same time though I feel a little lost. I feel strangely alone when days go by where I don't see or talk to him. He has been a constant presence in my life since we met and now he simply isn't anymore and I know it's going to take some getting used to.

During this time I reflect a lot about our relationship and what it meant to me. I slowly come to understand that as much as I love Gale, I never loved him the way my mother loved my father, I was never truly in love with him.

I realized I never really gave him my heart and it was a conscious decision. I never let him in, I never felt that strongly because I knew that kind of love only leads to heartache, I knew that I didn't want to be destroyed by it.

Gale was the safe and easy choice because when it comes down to it, I think I can live without him.

I try my hardest not to think about how with Peeta it is the complete opposite. With Peeta he consumes me, he makes me want him so badly I feel it in my bones. When I think of Peeta I think about how with him it would not be a matter of choice, with him I would be overwhelmed by how much I would need him, how much I would want him in my life.

And I'm doing a somewhat decent job of keeping Peeta from my thoughts until I get a call from Haymitch one day asking me to come meet him at his office.

I'm hesitant and nervous and unsure when I step into the social worker's office. He looks up from his paperwork when he hears me knock and shoots me an amused smirk.

"Well, come in," he says, "I got news!"

When I step into his office and take a seat across from him I can feel my stomach doing flips as I realize that this is it.

Everything comes down to this.

Haymitch must see something in my expression that reveals what I'm thinking because he starts laughing a little. "Don't freak out just yet, sweetheart," he tells me, leaning forward in his chair. "I don't know whether you got custody of your sister yet."

Oh. My heart constricts and there is an empty, hollow feeling in my stomach because I just got my hopes up for nothing.

"So what's the news then?" I ask, confused why he would bring me down here otherwise.

"The news is that my old pal Judge Chaff will be making the decision today about whether you get custody or not," he explains.

I scoot to the edge of my seat, heart speeding up again, mind racing, my whole body practically shaking. "Oh my god, really?"

"You think I would joke about that?" Haymitch returns, picking up the phone on his desk.

"Who are you calling?"

"I'm calling Chaff, who else would I be calling?" He shoots me a curious glance.

"But, I mean, why?" I stutter out.

"He wanted to speak with you directly before he announced his decision," Haymitch clarifies and I wring my hands together as my palms start to sweat.

He dials the number and then greets Judge Chaff when he picks up, making small talk for a moment.

"Yeah, I got her right here, hold on," He says before putting the phone down and putting it on speaker.

"Is this Ms. Katniss Everdeen?" A warm voice asks and I try to calm my racing heart before answering.

"Um yes sir," I reply softly, "this is Katniss. Thank you so much for taking the time to review my case, I really appreciate it."

I try and take deep breaths and move my hands under my legs so I can sit on them in an attempt to stop my nervous fidgeting. My whole body is trembling now and I can feel the blood pounding in my head as I wait for the news that will determine my fate, Prim's fate.

"Well Ms. Everdeen, I was happy to do it for my friend Haymitch, we go way back," Judge Chaff explains and when I dart my eyes over to Haymitch across the desk he has an amused smirk. "But I'll stop beating around the bush and get right to it," he continues, his tone taking on that of an authority figure.

"I would like to hear from you directly Ms. Everdeen about how you think you've changed in the months since your mother died and your sister has been living with Ms. Trinket. How has working with a grief counselor helped you?"

I swallow thickly and frantically search my brain for the best answer, for the exact thing that I should say.

"Um...I...well, I..."

He interrupts me almost immediately though. "No need to be nervous, dear. I'm simply curious. This isn't a test, it won't change anything about the case."

I take another deep breath and try to start again, a little more at ease now that I know I don't have to impress him, that I can just be honest.

"Well, to be honest, after my mother died and Prim left I was really angry. I was angry and hurting. And I was pretty less than thrilled with Haymitch's suggestion to attend grief counseling," I add and I can't help but smile a little when I see Haymitch's self-satisfied smirk across the desk.

"But then..." I falter a little when all these memories and feelings involving Peeta come to mind. I close my eyes and push back against the wave of emotion that hits me anytime I think of him. "But then Peeta, um my grief counselor, he really helped me to open up, he helped me remember all the good memories I had of my father. He made me realize that I couldn't keep running away from the pain of losing him. He showed me that sometimes the best way for me to deal with everything was to write it down."

I hastily wipe away a few of the silent tears that have fallen.

"I still have a ways to go I think, but he definitely got me started on the right track," I say with a sad little laugh.

The other end of the line is quiet for a moment and I wonder if I said the wrong thing or if he simply got disconnected, but then Judge Chaff speaks up again.

"That's all very encouraging to hear, Ms. Everdeen," he says. "From my talks with Primrose she's had nothing but positive things to say about you as a sister and in your ability to take care of her. I can only hope, however, that you'll continue to focus on your own well being as well when she is placed in your care."

My heart skips a beat.

"Of course, sir, absolutely," I agree, nodding my head emphatically.

"I would also be remiss if I didn't encourage you to go back to school. I'm sure you could work a few classes at the community college into your schedule as it would lead to greater career options for you in the future."

"Absolutely," I agree again.

"Well, Ms. Everdeen, I think I can confidently say after speaking with you today and Mr. Mellark a few days earlier-"

"You spoke with Peeta?" I interrupt him without thinking, surprised by this revelation.

"Yes, I had the pleasure of speaking with Mr. Mellark very recently," Judge Chaff laughs.

I take this in and feel my chest tighten when I realize I called Peeta and asked to be transferred to a new grief counselor almost two weeks ago.

And yet, he still talked to the judge for me. He did it for me despite not owing me anything, despite the fact he had no responsibility towards me after I so easily dismissed him, after I basically pushed him out of my life.

"He had absolutely nothing but wonderful things to say about you," Judge Chaff continues as if his words aren't slowly making my heart crumble to pieces. "He is quite fond of you. It's obvious he cares about you a great deal. You were lucky to get such an intelligent and well spoken counselor," he adds with a laugh. "He made my job extremely easy because he was so thorough."

I duck my head to avoid Haymitch's gaze as the tears start to fall more steadily.

I'm glad Judge Chaff can't see me at the moment.

"I'm granting you guardianship of Ms. Primrose Everdeen, Katniss," he says over the phone and everything inside me burns, burns, burns and it is the salvation I had been waiting for. "I trust you'll take very good care of her, but don't forget about yourself."

I can't hold back any longer.

I burst out into tears, trying to cover the sobs as I realize that my little duck is coming home. The relief is so sweet it's overwhelming. The anxiety and frustration and loss and pain I have been dealing with since she moved in with Effie all those months ago leaves me in an instant and it's pure bliss.

I can barely manage a few thank yous in between my crying fit and Haymitch finally takes pity on me and takes the phone off of speaker to talk to Judge Chaff directly before hanging up.

Among all the exultation and euphoria I'm experiencing with the knowledge that Prim is coming home is the thought of what Peeta did for me.

The fact that he talked to Judge Chaff after I told him I didn't want him as my grief counselor anymore. The fact that he did his best to help me get Prim back. The fact that he talked about me so kindly even after I pushed him out of my life.

It blows my mind - although, at this point it shouldn't - that Peeta could possibly be so kind to do this for me after everything that's transpired between us over the past few weeks. I don't think there is anything I can do to repay him for what he's done for me, nothing I can do to make us even for the gift he's given me: my sister.

But I realize I can't let this go unnoticed or unappreciated. I have to talk to him and set things straight. I have to make things between us okay again.

I miss him so much it hurts. And I want him in my life again.


	12. Chapter 12

Hospice has been here for a week.

They said it could be any day now.

I haven't slept properly or eaten anything substantial in days.

The worst part is my dad has been in so much pain that they've had to give him medicine for it, and it makes him totally out of it. He's been in varying states of consciousness for a while now.

People stop by to bring food or offer words of comfort, but I'm living in some kind of daze; not really living, just going through the motions and trying to get through this as best I can.

In an attempt to distract myself from the reality of what's happening I keep staring at my phone, contemplating picking it up and calling Katniss.

I miss her so much it hurts. I want to make things right between us, but the weight of what's been going on with my dad has made it impossible to think about anything else.

Right now though, all I know is that I need to hear her voice.

I pick up my phone and scroll to her name in my contacts list. I stare at it for a long time, thinking about everything we've been through the past couple of months.

The house is unusually quiet and my dad is asleep. It would be the perfect time to call.

I should call her.

My heart clenches painfully in my chest. Everything inside me is screaming to just do it, to call her right now.

I drop my phone and take a deep breath.

I'm shaking.

I realize that I'm scared to call her because the thought of not being able to make things right with her terrifies me. The thought that it might be too late for us is too much for me to handle and I don't know if I'm ready to face that yet.

Suddenly my phone starts ringing, making me jump.

I answer it quickly without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

Silence.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

"Hi Peeta."

I don't have to ask who it is. I would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Katniss..." I breathe out, suddenly feeling more alive and hopeful then I've been in weeks.

"I wanted to call to say thank you," she begins, her voice warm and gentle. The voice I fell in love with, not the detached tone she has been using the past few weeks. "I know that you talked to the judge for me and I'm so thankful," her breath hitches and it sounds like she's trying not to cry. "I'm getting Prim back."

A real, genuine smile spreads across my face for the first time in what seems like forever. "That's great news, Katniss. Congratulations. I'm so happy for you."

"I wanted to say I'm sorry too," she says and I can tell she's crying now, despite trying to hide it. "I'm sorry for how I've been treating you. You're so good and kind and you don't deserve it, and I'm so sorry."

The sudden way that she completely loses her composure twists at my gut and in spite of being appreciative of her apology, I hate to hear the pain in her voice. "Hey, hey it's okay," I try and assure her, not wanting to hear her upset.

"No, it's not!" She insists and the forcefulness behind her words throws me for a moment. "I'm so sorry for pushing you away, I didn't want to. I didn't even really mean it. I just got scared of how you made me feel because I was with Gale and I knew that wasn't fair to him. And then..." she takes a deep breath before continuing, "and then I saw you at the bar that one night hooking up with another girl and it crushed me. It crushed me, but I knew I had no reason to feel that way so I just got even angrier."

My stomach has bottomed out and my mind is a swirling mess of chaos.

She saw me.

She fucking saw me with the girl I was using to try and get over her.

The anger and annoyance she demonstrated at our session after it happened all makes sense now.

"Katniss..." I begin to try and explain, "...she meant nothing to me. Nothing happened. It was just that one time. It's always been you," I admit with a quiet desperation, hoping she knows that she's the one I care about, she's the one whose lips I want to taste.

"It's fine, Peeta," she tries to assure me, her voice calm and composed again. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. You didn't do anything wrong. It's just seeing you with her brought back all these old insecurities and feelings."

I swallow back the lump in my throat, because, unintentional or not, I hurt her.

"It just made me start to think that this was the same reason I was afraid to let myself grieve. It was the same reason that I didn't want to open myself up," she explains sadly. "When I let myself start to feel something for you is when I got hurt," she finishes quietly.

My heart contracts when I hear her admit she had feelings for me and I secretly pray that it's not just a thing of the past. I secretly pray that maybe she'll consider picking me over Gale. I try my best to keep my composure though and keep her talking.

"Katniss," I plead with her, "I get how it's easy for you to feel that, but I think what we have is worth the risk, being happy is worth it."

She takes a deep, shaky breath on the other end of phone. She's quiet for a long while before speaking up.

"I miss you."

I feel tears prick the back of my eyes.

"God, I miss you too. I miss you so much," I confess.

"Gale and I broke up," she says.

To say it's a challenge to figure out the appropriate way to respond to that is a complete understatement. Mentally I'm torn between jumping for joy and realizing that it was probably a really difficult thing for her to go through. My heart starts pounding loud and fast and hard as it really sinks in that Katniss is single now. The girl I love isn't with anyone else...she could actually be with me now.

I try and control my sheer giddiness at the thought.

"Are you okay?" I settle for asking.

"I'm fine," she says confidently. "It was for the best."

I'm glad she can't see me because I can't wipe the stupid grin off my face.

After a moment of silence she speaks up hesitantly.

"Peeta...I've been wanting to ask you about your dad for weeks. I've felt awful for not having the courage to do it sooner, but things were so strained between us."

At the mention of my father I come crashing back down to earth and the momentary reprieve of Katniss' call to make amends vanishes and I'm left with the same constant ache in my heart when I think about my dad, when I think about him slowly dying.

"How did things go with the surgery?" Katniss asks.

I will the tears away and try to keep my voice steady.

"They couldn't do anything for him," I tell her. "They released him from the hospital a couple of weeks ago and he's been slowly deteriorating ever since."

She gasps. "Oh no, oh no, Peeta, no," she whispers, her voice raw and hearing the emotion she's trying to keep in check makes me come close to losing it. "I am so sorry. Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

I have to take a few moments to be able to even say anything in response and even when I finally do my voice shakes and I barely manage to suppress a sob.

"Hospice is here though, so at least they're making him comfortable. I go to bed every night thinking that this could be it."

I hear Katniss sniffling on the other end of the phone and I feel the longing to hold her in my arms like a dull ache that I can't shake off.

"I'm so sorry, god I'm so sorry," she says again. "I'm here for you day or night, okay? Just say the word and I'll do whatever I can."

"Thanks," I whisper. "And thanks for calling. It is so nice to hear your voice again. It has absolutely sucked not having you in my life lately," I admit honestly and she lets out a surprised little laugh.

"It sucked for me too," she says. "I care about you so much, Peeta."

Before I can respond I hear a knock on my bedroom door. I look up and see one of the hospice workers poke their head in, gesturing that they need to talk to me for a moment.

"Hey, I got to go," I tell her, "I'll call you soon, okay?"

"Okay," she agrees.

I love you.

I want to say it, but I hold my tongue. I want to tell her that for the first time in person.

So instead we hang up and even though my dad is still clinging to the last bits of his life I feel a little better, a little lighter, a little more at peace.

I guess that's what hearing the voice of the woman you love can do for you.

X

I am by his side when it happens.

They tell me he's not in pain and I can at least take a small comfort in that.

I hold his hand and don't try to stop the tears because I remember what he always told me.

Never try to hide what you're feeling, that doesn't make you a man.

"I love you, dad," I tell him pressing my forehead to our joined hands. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

This feels like a bad dream. A nightmare that I'm trapped in where all my worst fears come true because the person I need the most, the person who has always, always, always been there for me is slipping away, never to return.

I remember when I was little and I was struggling with how to deal with my older brothers' deaths. I would cry a lot and get angry and I reached a period where I started to just refuse to do anything. I didn't want to go to school, I didn't want to help out at the bakery, I didn't want to play any sports, and I didn't want to hang out with any of my friends.

It was so hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact that my brothers were gone and that I was somehow expected to keep going on as if everything was still the same, as if my world hadn't collapsed when they were taken from me. I would get mad when my dad insisted that I keep hanging out with my friends or that I keep doing any other normal thing.

How can you not see that everything is different now? I used to think angrily. How can you expect me to keep going on when it hurts so bad?

It finally reached a point where it was getting ridiculous how much school I was missing and how much of a recluse I was becoming. My dad, who was determined to keep living, to keep moving forward despite the awfulness of the tragedy that hung over our heads, had had enough.

He sat me down one day and told me that I couldn't keep doing this, that he wouldn't allow the only son he had left, his son who still had some of his baby teeth, to live the rest of his life like this.

I remember breaking down into tears because while he never yelled, I remember sensing how upset he was, the way he raised his voice just a little, the firmness with which he spoke to me.

"But it hurts!" I cried, sobbing like the deeply wounded child I was. "It hurts so much!"

I'll never forget for the rest of my life the way my father had looked at me. The way he sighed and had the ghost of a smile on his lips, the way he pressed a kiss to my forehead and cupped my face in his hands.

He knelt down until we were face to face and locked eyes with me.

"Peeta, my boy, of course it hurts. But if I teach you anything in this life it's that it's possible to live with pain. In fact, it's the bravest thing you can do. Just because it hurts doesn't mean we stop living. Just because it hurts doesn't mean that you can't still be happy."

I never missed another day of school after that.

"He's gone," the hospice work says quietly from her spot on the other side of the bed where she's monitoring my father's vitals.

She hands me the wrist she had been holding where I find for myself that no pulse beats under his skin any longer.

A hard kick to my stomach, a hand wrapped around my throat, and a ton of bricks pressing down on my chest. That is what it feels like when I register her words, the knowledge that he is really, truly gone slowly sinking in.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try and imagine a world without my father.

It's unfathomable.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," I repeat through blurry vision and choking, gasping sobs. I stand up and press a kiss to his forehead.

"I'll make the necessary calls," the hospice worker says quietly before slipping out of the room.

I squeeze his hand in mine tightly one last time and then walk out of the room as well because he's not there anymore. I felt him leave before the hospice worker even announced he had passed. I could feel his spirit vanish from the room when it got colder, lonelier.

This is what I have to live with from now on, I think. A world without my father's laugh or my father's smile. A world where I can't turn to him when I need advice or when I want to share something important in my life with him.

He never got to meet Katniss, I think with another agonizing punch to the gut.

It feels like I'm drowning. Like this huge current is pulling me under and it would be so easy to let it. There is a part of me what wants to just lie down and give up.

I think about my dad though and everything he ever taught me, everything that he ever stood for.

The last thing he would want is for this to incapacitate me, for his death to leave me cold and empty and unable to function.

No, I'm not going to do that, I decide.

But I'm not going to fight against the current just yet. I'm going to let it pull me under just for a little while. I don't want to hide from the pain because I know it would find me soon enough anyways.

I'm going to let this unbearable grief consume me. Right now I'm going to crawl into bed and cry and let myself feel the excruciating pain of losing my father.

But then tomorrow - or maybe next week - I'm going to pull myself out of it and keep moving forward

Because that's what he would want me to do.

X

It's my first day out of the house since my father died.

Four days.

That's how long it finally takes me to be able to function again. I decide I've had enough of wallowing in the grief. I'm ready to move forward, live my life with the weight of my father's death, but live it none the less.

I walk to the park near my apartment and sit down on a bench, just taking it all in. I'm not sure how long I sit there, just quietly watching and observing. I watch old couples walk together hand in hand, I watch kids run and laugh and play, I watch a guy on a run with his dog. It's a good reminder that, even though my world has been irrevocably changed, life does ultimately go on.

I'm not sure when it starts raining. First the wind starts to pick up and the sky gets a little darker. Just as I stand up and start to walk away, hands stuffed in my pockets, it starts to rain.

At first it's just a drizzle and then it evolves into a complete and total downpour.

I find myself without an umbrella, wandering aimlessly on the streets.

Without realizing it, without thinking about where I'm going, I find myself at a familiar location.

Katniss' apartment.

I'm drenched, soaked to the bone and shivering, but I barely even feel it.

All I can feel at the moment is overwhelming desire to see the woman I love, to hold her in my arms, to just be with her and let her take some of the pain from losing my father away.

I raise a hand and knock lightly on her door, taking a step back.

"Coming!" I hear her call from the other side of the door.

I can't help but smile.

She opens the door a few moments later and I see her surprise at my presence register on her lovely features, her eyes going wide, her mouth forming a small 'o'.

"Oh my god, Peeta," she says when she notices my disheveled appearance and the fact I'm basically forming a puddle on her welcome mat.

"I didn't have an umbrella," I say dumbly, the words slipping out. I wince at how absurd it is that I chose to say that to her first of all things.

"Clearly," she laughs, reaching out and grabbing my hand.

I grab onto it and squeeze it tightly, noticing the way I relax a little from her touch.

"Oh my god, you're freezing," she says before tugging on my hand and pulling me inside.

When she closes the door behind me I turn and face her, seeing how she's watching me carefully with concern. I notice the way her eyebrows pinch together and her nose crinkles just a little. I remember how I always used to think about how damn cute she was whenever I saw this look from her when we were just getting to know each other, when I was first falling in love with her.

"My dad died," I admit, choking back the sudden fresh wave of pain that hits me anew every time I think about it.

Katniss' hands fly up to cover her mouth and I can see the tears start to form in those beautiful grey eyes of hers. Not a second later she steps forward and throws her arms around my neck, burying her head in the crook of my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Peeta. I'm so, so sorry," she whispers into my ear as my hands wrap around her waist, pulling her close to me.

It's not until a few moments later that I realize that I'm getting her clothes wet by holding her against me like this. As much as I don't want to let go I force myself to pull away and hold her at arms length.

She doesn't let go though. She keeps her hands planted firmly on my shoulders and looks me right in the eyes.

"I know you're hurting," she says and I can see the real, genuine pain in her eyes and I realize she really feels my loss, she knows what I'm going through.

Of course she does, she's been in my position before.

"I want you to know that I'm here for you and you're not alone, okay?" She says, her hands threading through the damp hair at the base of my neck, making me relax momentarily and focus only on how good she's making me feel.

"Okay," I whisper.

She nods and then reaches up to cup my face in her hands.

When I look at her I am certain that I have never felt this strongly about someone before.

I am certain that I won't ever feel this way about anyone else again.

"You're trembling," she whispers, trailing the pad of her thumb across my cheek.

"Let's get you out of these wet clothes," she insists and when I raise my eyebrows at her playfully she blushes and looks down at the floor.

She pushes my jacket off my shoulders and moves to hang it up on the back of a chair to dry while I kick off my shoes and socks.

"Come here," she says, grabbing my hand and leading me towards her bedroom.

I try and ignore the way my heart starts to race and I just try and focus on the warmth of her hand in mine.

When we step inside her bedroom I glance around, realizing I've never been in here before. I don't get a chance to get a good look at it though because she drags me into the small bathroom that is adjoined to her room.

I lean against the counter as she moves towards the shower and turns on the water. She checks the temperature of the water and I find myself just watching her, entranced by her every move, just happy to be in her presence.

Being around her quiets the raging storm in my head and in my heart that has been tormenting me since my father passed.

She moves over to me after the shower gets going and I can't help but smile a little at the thought that she's taking care of me.

She reaches out and grabs the hem of my t-shirt and I close my eyes at the feel of her hands on me.

"Arms up," she instructs and I lift up my arms so she can peel the wet t-shirt up and over my head.

I open my eyes and find her staring at my chest and when she looks up at me she flushes and shoots me a small smile.

"Take off my pants," I say and I'm not sure who is more surprised at what I just said, her or me.

Her eyes go a little wide and her breathing starts to pick up, but she doesn't say anything. Instead she reaches for my belt buckle and starts to undo it.

I want her.

I want all of her and I want her now.

I can feel myself getting hard as she drops my belt to the floor and starts to undo the button and zipper of my jeans.

I help her tug my jeans to the floor until they pool around my ankles and I step out of them, living me standing in front of her in only my briefs that are doing nothing to hide my very obvious arousal.

"Peeta..." she breathes and I hear the plea in her voice, the tone that tells me she wants me as bad as I want her.

"Katniss..." I say, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her against me so her body is flush with mine and she can feel my length pressing against her lower stomach.

I move her hair away from her shoulders and start to plant warm open-mouthed kisses on the curve of her neck, tasting her. She lets out a deep sigh and runs her hand through my hair, the other one is wrapped around my shoulder, pressing me to her.

"You...you should get in before the water turns cold," she manages to say as my tongue makes a trail on her skin that has her shuddering in my arms.

"Okay," I agree, pulling back and planting a kiss on her forehead.

"I will...um...I will leave you some dry clothes to change into on my bed," she says, looking at me like she can't tear her eyes away as I move towards the shower.

"Alright, thanks," I laugh and she glances at me one more time before shutting the door behind her.

When I drop my briefs and step into the shower the hot water instantly makes me feel better, warming my damp skin and easing the tension from my muscles.

I rest my head against the tiled wall and close my eyes, realizing this is the best I've felt in weeks. The bitter ache in my heart that my father's death left me with isn't gone, but the pain has eased up just a little. I feel like I can breathe again and I know that has everything to do with Katniss.

I don't stay in long. The water is still scalding hot when I step out of the shower and grab a towel from the nearby rack.

I dry off quickly before wrapping it around my waist and stepping out of the bathroom and into Katniss' room.

On the edge of her bed I see a folded up pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt.

I throw them on quickly and run the towel over my hair one last time before stepping back out into the living room. She looks up when she hears me coming and the most brilliant, beautiful smile I've ever seen lights up her face.

"How was the shower?" She asks, moving around her kitchen.

"Perfect," I tell her. "Just what I needed."

"Good," she smiles. "And I'm glad to see the clothes fit. They were my dad's," she explains with a shy smile, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She moves towards the couch in her living room and I follow.

"I made you some hot chocolate," she says, indicating the mug in her hand.

"I love hot chocolate," I laugh as we collapse next to each other on the couch.

I smile at the marshmallows she's put in my drink and take a sip, feeling the sweet beverage run through me, warming me even more.

We're just quiet for a moment before she reaches over and takes my hand in hers. She looks at me with sad eyes, but I'm grateful when I don't see any pity there.

"Are you okay?" She asks quietly, rubbing her thumb along the back of my hand.

I shrug, not quite sure how to explain it.

"It just feels like...it feels like I'm caught in this tidal wave of pain and misery and every time I feel like I'm going to get a break another wave comes and knocks me down again."

I run a hand through my hair in aggravation. "Every time it feels like I have a handle on this, like I can deal with the grief, it will just hit me out of nowhere and it will be so strong it literally knocks the wind out of me and it's like I'm struggling for air and trying not to break down."

"I know how you feel," Katniss says, curling up next to me on the couch. "That's exactly how I felt when my dad died. But I was so young and stubborn and determined not to break down because that was what my mother was doing and I couldn't do that to Prim."

I look over at her and I say a silent prayer of thanks to the powers that be that brought her into my life, that let me fall in love with this amazing woman.

I have no idea how I would be able to get through this, get through losing my dad if not for her.

"But you have to let the grief run its course, you have to let yourself feel the pain," she says and when I glance at her with a curious look and a crooked smile she simply shrugs in response.

"My old grief counselor taught me that," she says with a grin.

"Sounds like a smart dude," I joke.

"He is," she says and any hint of humor disappears from her words. "He's the most amazing man I know."

I feel my breath catch from the way she's looking at me.

I can't wait a second longer.

"Katniss, I want to kiss you," I tell her, the desperation clear in my voice.

"Then kiss me," she breathes out.

I cup her face in my hands and pull her lips to meet mine and when we kiss my whole word explodes. Everything is perfect. Her lips are soft and she tastes so sweet and all I can think is finally.

The kiss starts off slow because I realize we're in no rush, we have all the time in the world now. When I reach out to trail my tongue along her full bottom lip she moans into the kiss and I can't hold back much longer.

My tongue explores the sweet confines of her mouth and all I want is more, more, more. I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her against me and she makes a little noise of surprise, but doesn't protest.

When we finally break away to catch our breaths my lips immediately find the hollow of her throat where I lick and suck at her skin.

"Peeta..." she says, and hearing my name on her lips gets me hard.

I push her back on the couch so I can move over her body, my hips falling in between her legs.

"Do you know how bad I want you?" I ask her, pushing my length against the warm heat between her legs.

Her breath is coming in ragged gasps now and I'm starting to lose my mind. I've never felt like this before. I've never been this overwhelmed, not just from pure sensation, the lust making it hard to think clearly, but passion and real genuine love, I want all of her, I want her mind and her heart and her soul.

"I want you too," she gasps, pulling my lips back to her own, "so much," she adds when we break away.

"But I think..." she begins as my hand starts to travel up from her waist to her chest. Just before I can reach out and feel her perfect breasts she grabs my hand, stopping its ascent. "I think we should wait," she says.

My face must show my complete and total confusion about why we would possibly want to stop what we're doing at the moment because she bursts out laughing and the beautiful sound breaks me from my stupor.

"I mean I want to...I really want to," she explains with a little laugh, "but I think you're hurting right now and I don't think we should do this when your grief is still so fresh."

I sigh and roll off of her to the side, knowing she's right, but not exactly being happy about it. My throbbing length is vehemently disagreeing with her, but my head is glad she had the wherewithal to stop things before we took them any further.

"You're right," I tell her, kissing her quickly once more on the lips and pulling her against me. "I don't want us to rush this. I want this to be perfect."

"It will be perfect," she insists, resting her head against my chest as I lay back on the couch with her pressed against my side. "It will be with you so it will already be perfect."

I rub my hands up and down her back and savor the feel of her warm body in my arms, finally where she was always meant to be.

After a moment she speaks up, a little hesitant and unsure this time. "Will you...I mean...you can spend the night here if you want," she says, absentmindedly drawing patterns on my chest with her finger.

My heart feels like it's expanding and fluttering wildly in my chest and I have to close my eyes to remind myself that this isn't a dream, it's really happening.

I use my forefinger to tilt her chin upwards so she has to look me in the eye. "Of course, I want to stay the night," I tell her with a smile. "I want to be wherever you are," I add truthfully.

She breaks out into a grin and then leans forward and presses her lips to mine.

And I know I'll never get tired of kissing her.

X

The rest of the night is pretty laid back. We watch TV. She makes us mac 'n cheese for dinner. We make out. And then we make out some more.

When I notice her yawning and trying to hide it I turn off the TV and take her hand before pulling her into her bedroom.

I feel the nervous excitement running through me at the idea of sleeping in the same bed as her. I pull back the covers from her neatly made bed while she moves towards her dresser.

I glance over at her and then do a double take when I see her strip off her shirt. Her back is facing me and she's left standing in just her bra and pants.

My mouth goes a little dry and I feel the blood rushing to my groin when I see her reach behind her to unclasp her bra. She throws it in one of her drawers and then glances back at me with a devilish smirk.

"Can I help you?" She teases, one hand covering her breasts and one hand on her hip.

"Are you trying to kill me? I groan, collapsing down onto her bed.

"Of course not!" She laughingly protests, throwing on a tank top and replacing her pants with boxer shorts.

When she crawls into bed next to me all our joking and teasing quickly vanishes and I'm reminded that I tonight I get to kiss her and hold her in my arms and know she is with me, a privilege I've dreamt of for months.

We lie side by side, facing one another, our bodies mere inches apart, our feet tangled together, and our faces so close I can see the little dark flecks in the grey orbs of her eyes.

We don't say anything. We just lie there in peaceful silence watching one another, our breathing slowly falling into rhythm.

I like watching her, it puts me at ease.

After a while she leans forward and kisses me and I pull her against me, moaning as her breasts press into my chest.

"Katniss," I say through our kisses that have evolved into something slow and sweet and lingering.

"Mmm?" She mumbles, not stopping her persistent attack on my lips.

"I have something to tell you," I manage, breaking away and looking in her eyes. She looks at me curiously and confused. "It's really important," I add. "I've never told anyone this before."

I can see the worry start to surface in her eyes and my heart starts to speed up.

"What is it?" She asks.

I take a deep breath.

"I love you."

She gasps, her bottom lip starting to tremble before she buries her head into my shoulder. I hear her sniffling and then suddenly her whole body is shaking as she cries and I hold her against me and rub her back up and down.

"That wasn't exactly the response I was hoping for," I tease her and I can hear her sob loudly in response.

"I...love...you...too," she finally gets out through her tears and I have to bite back a laugh at her fragile state.

"Then why are you crying?" I whisper into her ear.

"I don't know," she sobs and this time I can't help laughing.

She finally calms down enough and I pull away, kissing her forehead and wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Katniss," I say and she looks up at me with red eyes and a still-quivering bottom lip. "Are we really doing this? You and me...together? No going back?"

This time she doesn't cry. This time she breaks out into a smile and leans forward to kiss me. She kisses me and keeps chanting the word 'yes' on repeat while I think to myself that my dad was right, it's possible to still be happy despite the pain.


	13. Chapter 13

Is it silly that I can’t stop smiling?

Yes, you’re being ridiculous, I scold myself.

Even still, my stupid grin refuses to go away and there is a large part of me that just doesn’t seem to care.

It sounds crazy and stupid and ridiculous, but I honestly had no idea it was even possible to be this happy. I feel like my heart has doubled in size and I walk around like I’m floating on air. 

Everything has changed.

Peeta and I have only been officially “together” for a few days and yet it seems like a lifetime. It feels like I’ve been wanting this and expecting it forever. And maybe in some way I was. It’s almost like we’ve been in a relationship a lot longer because of how close we became while I was still seeing him for grief counseling. 

There is no accurate way to describe what it felt like to kiss him for the first time, to hold him in my arms, to hear him tell me that he loves me. It was a joy so strong it overflowed into this wonderful, ecstatic sensation I can hardly process; an embarrassment of riches.

I find myself daydreaming for about the hundredth time as I put my car in park outside my apartment building. I think about his lips on mine, his arms pulling me closer, and his hard length pushing against me, making me wet with need.

I clench my thighs together and bite my lip. I can’t stop thinking about him like that. 

We’ve both had a lot of things to take care of in the past few days - him with his father’s funeral arrangements and me with getting things ready for Prim when she comes home - so I haven’t seen him since that first night when he slept with me in my bed.

I actually let out a content sigh and lean my head against the car window, remembering how he kissed me awake that morning. I could feel his morning arousal pressing into my inner thigh, but he just told me he loved me and got up to make breakfast.

My stomach turns with nervous excitement whenever I think about ultimately going down that road together. The thought alone is enough to make my heart speed up and my blood burn hot in anticipation. It’s never been like this with me before. I’ve never felt so alive, so overwhelmed by passion, overcome with need that I didn’t even know existed within me. 

If anything has become glaringly apparent to me over the past few months, it’s that Gale and I were much better as friends. Because now I see that there was no real spark between us, no fuel that created the burning fire I feel now with Peeta. The fire that has me thinking about that practically non-stop. 

I finally drag myself out of my car and out of my daydream and take the elevator up to my apartment. When I step off onto my floor I pause, noticing that the door to Gale’s place is open and there are voices coming from inside.

I walk by the apartment down the hall from my own slowly, peeking my head inside to see what’s going on and to see if anyone is at home.

I jump back a little when I see Gale carrying a box.

“Hey,” I say nervously, averting my eyes.

We haven’t spoken or seen one another since that night we broke up. Despite the fact we ended things on pretty decent terms considering everything that happened, I still feel unsure and awkward around him. 

Even though his sudden absence from my life hurt, I think the time apart was good for us to move on, to make a clean break.

He puts the box he was holding down on the ground and wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

“Hey Catnip,” he greets me and I feel a twinge of pain in my gut. Something that feels like longing and remorse for the friendship we had growing up, the doubt I feel now about whether we can ever get that back.

“What’s with the boxes?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

“Finally moving out,” he laughs.

I look up at him in shock, not expecting that answer in the least bit.

He sees my expression and continues, “I’ve been wanting to for a long time. I was just too spoiled with my mom’s cooking and I told myself I needed to save money to pay back my loans.”

“Oh,” I say, nodding my head and playing with my keys. A small feeling of panic and dread is rising up in me as I process this new information. I thought it was bad enough that he was no longer part of my life, but the idea of him not living down the hall is almost unthinkable.

I realize that us ending things was probably the final push he needed to move away.

“So you’re not just trying to get as far away from me as possible?” I joke, forcing a laugh; I have to joke, I have to keep it light or else I might start to cry.

“Not at all,” he grins and there’s a little light in his eyes and he seems genuine. “It’s honestly just way too crowded here with Vick and Rory. And now that Posy is getting bigger they just don’t have enough room for me anymore.”

I nod my head and swallow, taking comfort in the fact that at least it sounds plausible instead of a bold-faced lie to cover the fact that he can’t stand the sight of me anymore.

“It’s going to be weird not having you down the hall,” I admit, my voice quiet as I stare at the ground. I feel a bitter sadness swell up inside me and I have to take several deep breaths to calm down.

“It’s been weird not seeing you or talking to you every day,” Gale returns just as quietly, taking a few steps in my direction.

“I’ve missed you,” I admit, finally meeting his eyes with my own as they begin to water with unshed tears.

He sighs and when he lifts his arms, I don’t hesitate to go straight into them. 

I wrap my arms around him and bury my head in his chest. He is so familiar; the smell and feel of him is such a comfort to me.

I sniffle and pull back, wiping my eyes.

“I love you, Catnip,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I wish things had been different for us or that we had figured out a while back that we were better off as friends.”

“You mean I wasn’t the world’s best girlfriend?” I laugh.

He smiles. “No, and I definitely wasn’t perfect either. But maybe that’s just cause we were never supposed to be together like that.” He takes a deep breath and continues sadly, “I just hope this didn’t ruin things for us forever. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“You won’t,” I assure him. “If you still want me in your life, I still want you in mine,” I tell him. “Maybe not right away, maybe we should take some time right now, but I don’t think I could handle losing you forever.”

He throws his arm around my shoulders and starts walking with me down the hall, towards my apartment.

“I’ll be here. I mean...you can’t get rid of me that easily,” he teases.

We stop by my door, and I turn to face him.

“I think the fact that we were friends longer than we were together will help us get back on track eventually.”

“Definitely,” he agrees. “I mean, I already feel less weird around you.”

I laugh, feeling better too.

“Well, I’m glad,” I say confidently. “You’re too important to me for things to just end between us. Let’s make sure that we don’t just pretend that we’re going to stay friends and actually do it.”

“Absolutely,” he grins, holding out his hand, “let’s shake on it.”

I shake his hand and then he turns and walks back towards his place, shouting over his shoulder.

“See you around, Catnip.”

X

There is a knock on my door and I frown, wondering who it could be.

I’m not expecting anyone.

“Coming!” I shout from my room, throwing on a sweater and running a comb through my hair just in case.

When I open the door I’m greeted with the sight of my little sister, backpack on her shoulder and tote bag in her hand.

“Surprise!” she exclaims before dropping her bag on the floor and throwing her arms around me.

“Oh my god, Prim!” I wrap my arms around her and bury my head into those golden locks. I pull back and plant my arms on her shoulders so I can get a good look at her.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. “I was suppose to come pick you up tomorrow.”

“That’s why I said ‘surprise,’” she replies, rolling her eyes at me playfully. “Effie thought it would be a good idea if she brought me back today so we could spend all day tomorrow together,” she smiles.

“Oh Primrose,” I hear a voice say from down the hall. I step outside my doorway to see Effie walking towards us carrying two shopping bags of clothes. “I do hope you have enough room in your closet for all these...additions...we’ve made to your wardrobe.”

I don’t even try and fight off the smile. 

“How many clothes did you buy her?” I ask, taking the bags from Effie.

“Just the reasonable amount that any girl her age should have,” Effie defends herself and by the look her and Prim share I know there is nothing ‘reasonable’ about it.

I throw my arms around Effie and hug her tightly for a moment.

“Thank you so much,” I whisper in her ear and though she tenses up initially, she relaxes into the embrace and returns it fully. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“It was my pleasure, dear,” Effie replies when we break away.

“Well, let’s grab the rest of the things in the car and then we can say our goodbyes, shall we?” Effie asks and then turns and starts back down the hall before we can protest.

Prim and I share a smile at Effie’s determined efficiency before following her to the car.

After we’ve brought all of Prim’s things back to the apartment, which between the three of us only takes one trip, we settle down in the living room. 

“Can I get you something to drink, Effie?” I ask.

“Some tea would be wonderful, darling,” she returns from her spot on the couch.

“I’ll tell you what, Katniss,” Effie begins as Prim hands her a comb and sits on the floor in front of her. “It was lucky the case worker Mr. Abernathy was friends with that judge. Usually these things can take much longer than a few weeks.”

I return to the living room with Effie’s tea and stop in my tracks as I watch her brush my sister’s long blonde hair out. I smile, a warm, pleasant feeling flooding through me as I think about how all this time Prim was away she was with Effie. 

She was being treated like a princess by Effie. 

She was going to etiquette classes and getting new clothes and having her hair brushed and braided for her.

I realize that Prim going away for a little while was actually the best thing that ever happened to me. She got things from Effie that she never got with our mother, that she could have never gotten from me, things that every little girl needs, someone to obsess over her and spoil her rotten.

Her being away forced me to grow up; it forced me to confront things I had thought were bound to torment me for the rest of my life. 

And, of course, most of all, it led me to Peeta.

“It was very lucky,” I agree with Effie, placing her tea on the coffee table as she starts to braid Prim’s hair.

“So I want details,” Prim speaks up, getting my attention. “How is your new lover boy?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks and I can’t help but look away when she starts laughing.

“He’s fine,” I mumble. 

Prim was the first person I called after Gale and I broke up.  
 She was the first person I called when Peeta and I got together.

I still remember her high-pitched squealing when I told her about how he showed up at my door, how he kissed me and told me he loved me.

If anything made me certain, made me sure that this was what was suppose to happen, it was hearing how happy Prim was for me, how there wasn’t a trace of doubt in her voice.

“Oh my god, you’re blushing!” she cackles as Effie ties the end of her braid. “You have got it so bad!”

I force myself to hold onto some dignity. “Oh, it’s so wonderful to have you home, Primrose,” I tell her through gritted teeth.

She just clasps her hands together in glee.

“Alright, all finished,” Effie announces.

She stands up off the couch and Prim turns around and gives her giant hug.

“Now I expect you girls to come visit me in New York,” she tells us and I feel a lump start to form in my throat. I don’t have the right words to tell her everything she’s done for me. I don’t know how to say ‘goodbye’ to this woman who watched over and took care of the biggest piece of my heart for several months.

“This summer!” Prim squeals excitedly.

My eyes start to glisten and Effie steps towards me with a small smile. “I know you girls will be just fine,” she says and I can hear the emotion in her voice. 

I throw my arms around her quickly and hug her as tightly as I can, hoping she understands what I’m trying to say. 

When she pulls away she kisses me on the cheek and then grabs her purse.

“Now, don’t you go forgetting everything you’ve learned from your etiquette classes,” she tells Prim.

“Of course not!” Prim insists dramatically.

“Goodbye girls, take good care of each other!”

And with that Effie Trinkett turns and walks out of our lives. 

A woman who I first thought of as a curse that turned out to be the biggest blessing of my life.

X

I take a deep breath and knock on his door.

In the time it takes for him to answer I feel my stomach doing flips as I try and take several deep breaths to calm my racing heart.

Peeta opens the door and gives me a crooked smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” I grin back at him. “I umm..brought food,” I tell him, gesturing to the bag of take-out in my hand.

“Perfect,” he replies as I step into his apartment and he closes the door.

I look around, never having been here before, and take in my surroundings. It’s clean and comfortable and basically your average male apartment.

I place the bag of food on the dining room table near the kitchen and then turn back to him.

“So...umm...”

I can barely get out the awkward, mumbled words before he wraps his arms around me and kisses me.

I make a little gasp of surprise and delight and he groans in response.

He has one hand tangled in my hair, grasping the back of my head and pulling me to him as he tastes my lips slowly, softly, sweetly. His other hand is wrapped around my waist so our entire bodies are flush against each other.

His lips are soft and make me feel warm and dazed, like my body is sluggish and my mind can’t think straight, can’t think of anything but him and how good he feels. The kisses are innocent, our lips brushing against each other as we take our time.

Finally, I pull back, keeping my hands on his shoulders as I bite down on my bottom lip to suppress the silly grin that threatens to break my face.

“Sorry, I needed to do that,” he whispers and the sound of his voice, the heavy desire I hear, sends shivers through my body.

“Don’t apologize,” I tell him, trailing my thumb along the strong, defined line of his jaw, feeling the smooth skin there.

“God I missed you these past couple days,” he says, ducking his head to press kisses under my jaw and along my neck. My eyes practically roll to the back of my head as I grab onto him and focus on the sensation of his lips on my skin, his body pressed to mine.

Finally, I find my voice and my reason. “How have you been?” I ask, pulling away. “Did you take care of everything?”

His eyes darken and his expression falters as I bring him back to reality, but instead of pulling back or shutting me out he just holds onto me tighter.

“Yeah, I got everything taken care of,” he says. “It’s going to be this weekend.”

I nod my head to the news that his father’s funeral now has a date. My heart clenches painfully as I think about him having to endure this pain, but I adopt a steely resolve to stand beside him and help him get through this. 

I kiss him briefly to show my support.

“How’s having Prim back?” he asks with a smile.

“Really great,” I laugh. “She’s having a sleepover tonight with all her old friends from school that she hasn’t seen in months.”

“Oh really?” he asks, a wicked look in his eyes as he gives me a mischievous smirk. “Does that mean I get to keep you here tonight all to myself?” 

He returns his lips to the hollow of my throat and I feel my heart flutter and my lower belly clench in response to his words. The desire hits me fast and hard and I can feel every nerve ending in my body react as he licks and sucks my skin. He works his way up and under my jaw until his lips are right behind my ear and I have to grab onto him to keep from going weak in the knees.

Suddenly I’m overwhelmed by the passion coursing through me, the wetness gathering between my legs. I have never wanted someone this much, never desired to explore my sexuality and take it to new heights like this. And I know it’s all because of Peeta, the connection I have with him, how he makes me feel.

Unexpectedly, nervousness and anxiety creep up on me, making me feel panicky and unsure because this is so new and intense. My heart starts to beat even faster as the fear of the unknown mixes with the lust and attraction.

Swallowing thickly, I pull away and gently ease myself out of his grasp. I give him a small smile, but don’t exactly meet his eyes.

“We should eat,” I suggest, and my voice sounds high and unnatural. “I brought Chinese food,” I explain, moving over to grab the bag off the table.

He doesn’t say anything in response as I grab the bag and bring it over to his kitchen counter. I start opening cabinets, making myself at home as I search for plates and cups. 

“I wasn’t sure what you like,” I start to ramble, now pulling out eating utensils and serving spoons from the drawers, “so I just got a little bit of everything. Personally, I really like sweet and sour pork, but I’m not too big on chow mein.”

I internally wince as I listen to myself babble nonsensically. I’m sure he thinks I’m a basket case considering we were just making out and now I’m obsessing over different types of Chinese food, but I can’t help it. 

There is a part of me that is hesitant and scared to go down that road with him for whatever reason. Even though I’ve practically been thinking about it non-stop since we got together, I realize that when we start to really be intimate with one another everything is going to change. 

And it’s not that I don’t want it, because God do I want him like that. I just wonder if I’ll be able to make him feel as good as I want to, if I’ll be able to give him what he wants. 

He oozes confidence and experience, and I have one time with Gale and a history of being unsure and wary when it comes to intimacy.

“Have you tried the new place on Lincoln?” I ask, continuing my mindless prattle about Chinese food. “It’s just a hole in the wall, but it’s actually pretty good.”

I’ve opened the cartons of food by now and have started to dish out little servings onto each plate when I feel him move to stand directly behind me at the kitchen counter. I feel my breathing pick up and I’m so flustered I can barely think straight.

“Do you like pot stickers? I love pot stickers.”

His hands snake around me, one grabbing my waist while the other takes hold of the hand that was dishing food out. I freeze from his touch, everything inside me going still, suddenly incapacitated.

“Katniss,” he whispers, his lips right beside my ear so his breath tickles me.

“I don’t want food right now,” he says, a hint of laughter in his voice. “The food can wait,” he adds. 

I drop the spoon and slowly turn in his arms to face him. I look up at him and wish my heartbeat would return to a normal, acceptable rate.

“Am I making you nervous?” he asks and when I look into his eyes I see nothing but genuine concern. Nothing to indicate that he’s secretly laughing at me for getting so flustered, for acting like an inexperienced teenager.

“I just...I want to do things with you...to you. I can’t stop thinking about it. And I’ve never felt like this before. But at the same time it makes me nervous.”

The truth escapes without me really intending it to, and when I glance up at him I see that his eyes have turned a dark shade of blue. He licks his bottom lip with his tongue and I think about his mouth on me.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says. “We can go slow. I don’t want to push you to do something you’re not ready for.”

A pleasant warm, tingling sensation washes over me and I relax a little, feeling some tension leave me. His words calm me and remind me that this is right, that Peeta loves me and I trust him and when we go down that road together it is going to be perfect and beautiful.

“Maybe we can save the main event for later and just build up to it,” I offer, knowing that I need to touch him tonight. And I need him to touch me. 

He grins. The most beautiful and playful and wonderful smile I’ve ever seen and pulls me closer. “I can do that,” he replies. “I can definitely do that.”

And then he kisses me and my mind goes quiet and I am pure sensation.

X

“What?”

We’re on Peeta’s bed, him hovering over me with a ridiculous smile as I stare up at him in admiration. He has rid me of my shirt and I’ve just thrown his to the floor, taking in the sight of his toned chest and flat stomach. 

He shakes his head as if to clear it and then returns to kissing me.

“Nothing, I just...” He mumbles between kisses. “I just can’t believe this is really happening,” he laughs.

“Me neither,” I agree, letting my hands wander over his warm flesh. He is hard and strong everywhere, tight skin over firm muscle. I try and memorize every curve and hard ridge of his body, never wanting to take my hands off him.

He breaks away from our kiss and dips his head to my neck, trailing his lips against the skin there. He kisses me until he reaches my chest and then his head is between the valley of my breasts that are only covered by the lacy black bra I specifically wore for tonight.

His kisses the swell of one of my breasts and brings his hand up to grasp the other.

“Ahhh...” I moan softly and arch up towards him, feeling the direct connection between his hand on my chest and the ache between my legs.

“Are you sure this isn’t a dream?” Peeta says, practically panting with desire. “This feels too perfect to not be a dream.”

I bring my lips to his again and kiss him hard before pressing on his chest so he is forced to roll over on his back and I’m straddling his waist. I plant my hands flat on his chest and look down at him with a smirk.

“Definitely not a dream,” I say, reaching behind me to unclasp my bra.

I see his eyes go wide when he realizes what I’m doing and I slowly let the bra fall away from me and toss it to the side. 

I bite my lip a little self-consciously as Peeta looks at me for the first time. He is drinking in the sight of me like I am a tall glass of water and he is a man in the desert dying of thirst.

He licks his lips and then sits up so we’re face to face.

He is breathing hard, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he takes my bare breasts in his hands and squeezes them gently. I gasp a little and rock my hips against his a little harder. Then he leans down and licks one of my nipples gently with his tongue. 

I moan in response and run my fingers through his hair.

He cups and rubs and gently squeezes my breasts in his hands and when he sucks my nipple into his mouth I cry out in response.

“Don’t stop,” I whine, the words needy and desperate.

I can feel my clit throbbing against the rough material of my jeans and my hips start to rock into him, searching for some friction to ease the building tension.

In one swift move, he flips me over so I’m on my back again and he kisses me deeply, his tongue stroking my own, claiming my mouth.

Then his hand trails down between my legs and he rubs me over my jeans.

I cry out my approval, grasping onto him as my hips buck forward, searching for more.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, his hand hovering near the button of my pants.

“Yes,” I reply breathlessly. 

I help him as he peels the jeans down my legs, leaving me in just my underwear.

“You too,” I tell him, reaching for his pants button. 

When his pants hit the floor I’m left with the sight of Peeta in nothing but his boxer briefs, his hard and very thick length, straining against the thin material. 

This is where it hits me that this is really happening, but instead of feeling unsure or worried like I did early I feel a sense of calm wash over me.

I love him.

His hand slips between my legs again before I can think or do anything else and when his fingers glide over my swollen clit I moan in response.

“Peeta...” I gasp, hands grabbing onto his broad shoulders to steady my already quaking body.

“I want to feel how wet you are,” he whispers into my ear and his words make my heart slam against my chest frantically and the aching between my legs intensify. 

I never once imagined that Peeta, who has always been nothing but sweet and gentle and soft-spoken, could say such sexy, unexpected things. 

His hand slips past my underwear and as his thumb circles my clit he pushes a finger inside me.

“Ahhh...yes...” I cry out, hips jerking forward into his touch. “Yes, Peeta, yes...”

“Fuck, Katniss...” He hisses, breathing through clenched teeth. “You’re so beautiful. I want you so much.”

The passion behind his words, his unexpected cussing, it all fuels my desire until I’m riding his hand desperately as he continues to thrust his fingers inside me.

He stops his movement and starts to tug my underwear down my legs. I help him kick them off my legs and then I reach for the waistband of his briefs.

I look up and meet his eyes and the gaze that passes between us sets me on fire.

I want to make him come, I want to make him scream my name.

His underwear falls to the floor and I take in the sight of him for the first time.

My center aches as I look down at his hard, swollen cock. He is thick and long and when I reach out and take him in my hand he pants ‘yes’ and pushes into my fist.

He kisses me once and then reaches over me to the nightstand by his bed. He opens the first drawer and pulls out a small bottle of lube.

I hold out my hand and he squirts some into it before I grasp him again firmly, my hand moving smoothly over the soft, but rigid skin.

He is breathing heavily now, his chest rising and falling as I work him up and down, my palm coming up over the head of his cock before gently tugging the skin back down.

“Yes, Katniss, yes...” he grunts. 

His fingers slip between my legs again and I moan and let my legs fall to the side, opening myself up for him.

“Do you want it slow?” he whispers in my ear as his thumb circles my clit with languid strokes. “Or do you want it fast and hard?” He pants, driving three fingers inside me without warning.

I can’t form words, I can’t think, I can’t do anything but rock my hips in response to his movements and moan and stroke his cock up and down, sliding it between my hands in a desperate motion.

“Say my name,” he growls, sucking my nipple into his mouth and fondling my other breast with his free hand. “I want to hear you say it when you come.”

“Peeta!” I call out, gasping and choking on the word because my mind can’t function clearly right now. Everything is white hot and I can’t fathom anything other than his hand between my legs, his cock in my hands. 

“Fuck yes, Katniss...” He shouts and his hips are thrusting into my hands and his fingers are starting to work me relentlessly, pounding into me as his thumb punishes my clit and everything tightens and builds inside me. 

My movements are hectic and I’m working him desperately, in rhythm with his thrusting hips and his deft fingers.

“Come for me, Katniss,” he pants just as I feel myself reach that point of no return, that point where everything becomes too intense and I fall off the cliff. I shout his name in a voice so raw it sounds foreign to me. My insides tighten around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me.

He comes right after I do, his hips going still as he spills onto my hands and stomach. He grunts his approval before collapsing by my side.

I’m still too overwhelmed from my orgasm to think straight. My limbs feel heavy like they’re made of lead and all I want to do is lay here in his arms as my heart beat returns to normal.

Vaguely I’m aware of him cleaning me up, using tissues from his nightstand to wipe his cum from my stomach and hands.

He kisses me on the forehead and then pulls me against him, his naked body pressed up against my own.

The last thing I remember thinking before dozing off is that I’ve never had an orgasm quite like that before.

 X

I wake sometime later to the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. It sounds like shower spray hitting the tile. 

I stretch out in bed, taking in the comfort of Peeta’s scent all around me. A silly little grin appears when I remember what we were doing before we fell asleep.

I force myself out of bed and don’t even bother to get dressed as I tiptoe into his bathroom completely naked.

He has shut the door and the light is on and the room is filled with steam, making the mirror foggy and unclear. 

When I close the door behind me I bite my lip and take in the sight of his naked body through the shower door. I approach him, careful not to make any noise as the idea of standing under the water with him, wet and naked, sends a secret thrill through me. 

I crack the door open just a little and he has his head under the stream of water with his eyes closed. When he pulls back he opens them and looks right at me, breaking out into that smile I love.

“Want some company?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

“God, yes,” He replies immediately and I laugh as I step in to join him.

He pulls me to him under the warm water, his hands wrapping around my waist as he kisses me. My hands lock around his neck and he pulls me against him so our naked bodies are flush against each other and the warm water is flowing down over us.

I feel his length pressed between us and the simple memory of the orgasm he gave me earlier is enough for the wetness to start to gather between my legs.

He must feel it too because his hands snake down to cup my behind and pull me even firmer against him. I am desperate to get closer, even though there is no closer. His cock twitches and hardens against me as he drags his lips to meet my own again.

“Katniss...” he pants when we break away and hearing my name on his lips like that gets me so hot with need. He kisses down my throat, licking and sucking and biting before taking my breast in his hand, pulling on my nipple until it puckers and hardens.

“I want you so much,” he whispers into my ear, pushing my hair away from my neck so his lips tickle my skin. He drops his hand down and parts my legs, easing a finger inside me. I gasp and grab onto his shoulders to keep me steady. 

“But I will wait as long as you need,” he adds, his words gentle and soothing and I close my eyes as a sudden wave of emotion rolls through me. I swallow back the lump in my throat and close my eyes, overwhelmed by how much I love him, how much I can feel that he loves me.

I know when he says those words that he really means them, that he would like nothing more than to make love to me tonight, but he has absolutely no problem with waiting until I’m ready to take that step.

And then I’m kissing him desperately, my tongue stroking his, exploring his mouth, claiming those soft lips as my own. I want to possess him, I want him to know that he’s mine and I love him and we’re going to have sex soon, but not tonight.

“I love you,” I tell him as we break away, my hands in a frenzy, running all over his toned, muscular chest that is wet from the water. “I love you so much,” I kiss along his jaw and then down his throat and before I know it I’m pushing against his chest until his back hits the wall of the shower and I’m dropping to my knees.

“Katniss...” he gasps in surprise when he realizes what I’m about to do and the way his hips jerk forward involuntarily tells me how much he wants this. 

I reach out and take him in my hand and then look up at him. The look in his eyes is so raw, so feral with need, a heavy mix of lust and love, that I feel myself respond, my center throbs in response to the idea of doing this to him, for him. 

I want to make him fall apart, I want to pleasure him until his mind shatters and his body is completely at my mercy. I only focus on that, not on my doubts and insecurities of whether I can do this as well as I want to, when I open my mouth and guide his cock between my lips.

He groans and his hands fall to the top of my head, gently running through my hair and helping to guide my movements.

I swirl my tongue around him, tasting the shower water and the smooth skin over his rock-hard shaft. I use the pad of my tongue to stroke the hard ridge of him and his hips jerk forward, pushing himself deeper into my mouth

“Oh fuck...” he grunts as I wrap my lips around the base of his cock and drag them up to the head. I circle my lips around the tip and lick and suck and pump my fist up and down the rest of his length.

“Shit,” he swears, his hips pushing forward like he can’t help it. “Oh god, Katniss...” he says, grabbing onto both sides of my head as I take more of his length into my mouth. I wrap my lips around him as tightly as possibly, swirling my tongue and humming so he can feel the vibrations. “Yes, just like that,” he moans. 

I reach out and gently cup his balls and the sound he makes is so wild I know he is close to losing it so I start to increase my movements. 

“I’m going to come,” he tells me, trying to pull away, but I don’t let him. 

Vaguely, I think about how with him, I feel like a different person, I feel feminine and sexy and powerful and sucking him off turns me on and the thought of him coming in my mouth makes me wet.

“Katniss!” he cries out again like he’s trying to give me a last minute warning, but I just close my lips around his length and urge him to come.

He groans, long and low as he finally finds his release and the feeling of satisfaction and pleasure and sheer giddiness knowing that I did this to him sweeps over me in full force. I lick him clean before finally joining him on my feet again.

He pulls me against him and kisses me gently, hands wrapped tightly around my waist like he never wants to let go.

“That was...incredible,” he whispers, his voice raspy. “You are amazing.”

I don’t say anything. I just smile and kiss him again and let my hands run through his wet hair.

We use the rest of the time in the shower to actually wash our hair and clean our bodies before the hot water runs out. It’s funny that we can go from me giving him head to playfully joking with each other as we move around the relatively small space completely naked. He helps to wash the shampoo out of my hair and I wash his back with soap.

Finally, when we’re finished he turns off the water and opens the shower door. He reaches for the towel on the rack and then turns and wraps it around me. He gathers the towel in front and pulls me towards him, kissing me softly.

“Beautiful,” he sighs before pressing a kiss to my forehead and the butterflies soar and flutter in my stomach making me feel ridiculous and silly, but I can’t find it in me to care.

He steps out of the shower onto the mat and pulls another towel out of the cabinets for himself. He dries off and then turns and offers me his hand as I step out and join him. 

As we stand side by side in his bathroom drying off I’m hit with overwhelming realization that I have never been happier in my entire life. By his side I feel comfortable and safe and loved and I know this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I look over at him as he runs the towel over his hair. He catches me watching him and breaks out into his beautiful, crooked smile.

“What?” he asks as I secure the towel under my arms and around my chest.

“Nothing,” I laugh, biting down on my bottom lip to try and contain my smile.

He steps closer to me and runs his hand over my wet hair before cradling my face in his hand. His thumb glides along my cheekbone and he just stares down at me with a look in his eyes that makes my heart stutter.

“Come here,” he whispers, grabbing my hand and leading me back into his room. 

He leads me over to the edge of his bed where I sit down. Then he eases me down until I’m lying on my back and he hovers over me. 

He kisses me, hard and needy, and as his tongue sweeps across my own and explores my mouth, he gently tugs at my towel, opening it and revealing my nakedness to him. 

Not that he hasn’t already seen it and explored it tonight.

His lips trail to my neck, putting me in a daze as he licks and nips and renders me completely under his influence. He sucks on my nipple, gently biting and squeezing my breast and I arch into him feeling the wetness start to pool between my legs.

“Peeta...” I moan, running my hands through his hair as he starts to trail kisses down my stomach.

Before I even realize what’s happening his head is between my legs and he’s keeping them spread apart with his hands.

“Peeta!” I almost shout, leaning up off the bed, and looking down at him wide-eyed.

His head is between my legs and he’s planting soft kisses to my inner thighs and looking at me with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

His mouth is so very close to the part of me that is throbbing and aching for his touch, that is wet with need. But even still there is a small insecure part of me that is wary about letting him...do that. I’ve always thought this was just too intimate, too personal, required too much trust and letting go on my part to ever be something that I would allow.

But the sight of his lips kissing between my legs, tongue darting out to lick the skin of my inner thighs is slowly pushing all those reservations I’ve ever had out the window. And he looks so...hungry...if that’s the right word. The thought makes me quiver with anticipation as wet heat floods down there and I lean back on my elbows.

“Let me taste you,” I think he mumbles, but I’m not positive because the next thing I know his tongue is licking up the length of my folds and I’m moaning in pleasure.

“Oh my god,” I moan, my hands going to his wavy blond hair as he starts to tease my clit, licking and sucking. My hips jerk forward, pushing myself into him, and all reservations, any sense of wariness or being shy about letting him do this to me completely vanishes. 

I want his mouth on me as much as I can possibly get it.

“Fuck!” I cry out in ecstasy as he sucks my clit into his mouth. “Yes, Peeta, yes,” I murmur incoherently as his tongue continues its assault on me, licking the wetness that pools there, pushing inside me frantically.

Without realizing it I find myself grabbing onto his head, pulling him closer like I want him to devour me whole. My hips are rocking in a circle, pushing back against his talented mouth as I ride this tidal wave of pleasure higher and higher.

He pulls back for just a moment looking up at me with a small smirk and I see the sheen around his mouth and noise from my wetness. “I love how you taste,” he says, licking at me again with long strokes of his tongue that torment me. 

My eyes roll to the back of my head from his words.

My hips are jerking erratically now, desperate for release.

He sucks my clit into his mouth and whine pathetically, pure bliss overtaking me.

My body is tensing up and just when I don’t think I can take it anymore he says, “I love eating your pussy, Katniss.”

I scream, loud and long as my orgasm hits me with full force. His words pushing me over the edge until I’m trembling and flying and my body is pure sensation. The pleasure lasts for what feels like a really long time, little tremors that keep rolling through me as my heartbeat slowly returns to normal.

I never in a million years thought Peeta had it in him to say something like...that.

And even more surprising...I never thought it would turn me on as much as it did.

The next thing I’m really aware of is Peeta pulling me against him, planting kisses on my cheeks and neck and running his hands up and down my back.

And then when I’ve finally returned to earth he asks something so casually and unexpected that I start laughing in response.

“Now how about that Chinese food?”


	14. Chapter 14

The sun is out and the sky is the perfect color of blue, white clouds scattered here and there.

I hold tightly onto Katniss’ hand as we walk up the steps of the chapel together.

She wraps her other arm around my bicep and leans into me, almost like she’s reminding me that she’s here.

I’m thankful. Feeling her close by my side is the only thing keeping me sane at the moment. 

We walk to the front of the small room and I have to let go of her hand to greet the reverend who will be running the service. And then as people start to slowly stream in, I have to quietly thank them and accept their condolences. Katniss kisses me on the cheek and then tells me she’ll save me a seat in the front row.

I greet family friends and members of my extended family that have actually showed up today. My father was an only child and both his parents have already passed so it isn’t a large crowd, but the number of friends and acquaintances from over the years that show up more than makes up for it. 

It gets exhausting, sharing tight smiles and nodding my head in polite conversation with all these people I haven’t seen or talked to in forever. And to make matters worse, I’ve somehow found myself stationed between the lectern and my father’s casket, the physical reminder of his death pressing down on my chest, making it hard to think clearly or breathe easy.

I keep glancing over to Katniss in the front row waiting for me. She’s sitting next to Prim, speaking quietly with her. I feel like there is an invisible cord pulling me over to her. All I want to do is go sit next to her, hold her hand and remind myself that I can do this. As long as she’s by my side I can get through this.

In the middle of talking with our old neighbors, I glance in her direction again and this time she catches my eye. We share a quick look, but she must see something in my expression because the next thing I know she’s walking towards me.

She smoothly introduces herself and then apologizes for needing to pull me away.

I wrap my arms around her and hug her tightly, hoping she understands the gratitude I’m trying to express.

She rubs my back gently and then pulls me back to the seats.

“Come on,” she says as we sit down in the front row. “Don’t wear yourself out talking to everyone right now,” she whispers in my ear and the feel of her hot breath against my skin is enough to push the tension from my body. “You’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

I laugh and put my arm around her as she curls into my side.

The room fills up and people take their seats not much longer after that.

The reverend walks to the lectern and begins to speak.

I can do this, I tell myself and with Katniss at my side, I really believe it.

X

After the burial at the cemetery a select group of family and close friends come back to my father’s house.

Delly made the arrangements with the caterers for me so the food is ready when we get there.

It’s a huge relief to just sit in the house I grew up in, surrounded by the people who mean the most to me. It rips away some of that drowning feeling that started to consume me as they laid my father to rest. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on the current moment, not the image of his casket being lowered into the ground.

“Hey, you okay?”

I look over at Katniss, who is staring at me in concern.

Her nose is crinkled, her eyes are narrowed, and there is that little wrinkle between her eyebrows. It’s that look I’ve grown to know and love; that perturbed, worried look that tells me how much she cares, how deeply she loves.

I kiss her gently. “I am now,” I tell her truthfully.

She takes my hand and we move back into the living room to join the group. Delly, Finnick, Annie, Prim and Johanna are here. And even Sae and Thom from group therapy showed up to the actual memorial. There are my dad’s friends and employees from the old bakery around the house too, talking quietly, eating and sharing stories.

It feels nice to be surrounded by the people I love and the people who loved him. It makes the burden of his loss a little easier to bear. 

“How are you doing, Sunshine?” Johanna asks as Katniss and I take a seat on the couch beside her.

“I’m hanging in there,” I tell her, and she just smiles and pats me on the shoulder.

“Hey what was that cake thingy your dad used to make?” Finnick asks from his spot on the leather recliner, Annie on his lap. “The thing that was like a brownie almost, but had chocolate sauce inside.”

“The molten lava cake?”

“Yes!” Finnick shouts, a smile lighting up his face. “Dear God, that was the best thing I ever tasted. And he would put a scoop of ice cream on top and oh my god...” he trails off dreamily.

“Jeez, why don’t you just marry it?” Annie teases, pretending to be annoyed.

“If it was acceptable to marry a dessert I would,” Finnick returns without missing a beat. “But I guess I’ll settle for you instead,” he adds, kissing her left hand that now wears a diamond ring.

Their engagement was welcomed news. It wasn’t even all that surprising. With Finn and Annie you just knew they were heading down that road sooner or later.

Katniss laughs and the sound makes my chest tighten in a good way. 

I glance over at her and we share a look. In this moment I hope she can read my thoughts. I hope she can tell what I’m thinking, that one day I’m going to put a ring on her finger.

“Enough with the googly eyes,” Delly snaps us out of the moment, causing Katniss to blush and look down at her lap. “You two have got it so bad it’s not even funny,” she laughs.

I’m just about to respond, to inform my best friend, that yes I have it bad for Katniss Everdeen and I don’t care who knows it when I hear my name.

“Peeta?”

I turn my head to find someone I haven’t seen in years. Someone I never expected to really see again.

Carrie. My college girlfriend. The only relationship I had ever had before Katniss.

I jump up off the couch. “Uh hey.”

“Hey, I’m so sorry to drop by like this,” she begins awkwardly, looking around the group. “My mom told me about your dad and I just wanted to come by and offer my condolences. And then the front door had a sign that said to come in...umm I didn’t mean to intrude on anything,” she laughs.

“Oh, of course not,” I reply automatically. “Thanks for coming by. Umm you remember Delly and Finnick,” I say and she smiles timidly at them. “And this is Annie, Johanna, and Katniss, my girlfriend,” She waves at everyone and nods her head. 

“Uhh, Carrie and I dated in college,” I say, not exactly looking at Katniss, although that’s who I’m directing my words at. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” I hear Katniss say and suddenly I’m intensely uncomfortable.

I offer to show Carrie towards the food set-up and we make small talk and catch up. 

Apparently she’s in graduate school now and working towards her Masters in Social Justice. 

When we return to the group she takes a seat near Delly and I rejoin Katniss on the couch.

I don’t realize that I’m tensing up and holding my breath, waiting for her reaction, until I feel her slide her hand into mine.

“So that’s the ex?” she whispers and when I turn and look at her I see she’s wearing an amused smirk.

I relax a little and throw my arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, sorry to spring that on you.”

She shrugs and leans in for a kiss. “It’s fine,” she smiles when we break away, “you’re mine now anyways.”

I grin, leaning down to kiss her again.

“Damn right.”

X

It’s been almost two weeks since the funeral.

I keep trying to remind myself everything I’ve learned and taught over the years, all the advice I’ve given out to people to help them deal with their own grief.

It’s a lot easier said than done. 

Sometimes I feel like I’m fine and then sometimes I feel like the walls are closing in. I can’t breathe and there’s this pressure on my chest. I almost have these mini panic attacks where it hits me all over again that my dad is really gone.

I’m sitting on the edge of my bed in nothing but my underwear, watching Katniss brushing her teeth in my bathroom.

The sight of her in nothing but her pink panties and one of my white button up shirts makes me relax. I take a deep breath and watch her, instantly feeling better, calmer. 

I realize in this moment that these past few weeks would have been unbearable without her by my side. She’s been like the light in a tunnel of darkness. She has kept me going. She has made me happy.

When she finishes brushing her teeth she comes back into the room and moves toward my dresser against the wall, grabbing her comb and beginning to brush her hair out.

“Is it bad that I really like when Prim has these sleepovers with her friends?” she asks. “I just like staying here because Finn is always at Annie’s so we have the whole place to ourselves and we don’t have to worry about being overheard like we do at my place,” she rattles on.

I get up off the bed and come to stand behind her. I grab her by the hips and pull her against me, making sure she can feel how hard I already am, how much I want her.

I push the hair away from her shoulder and start planting kisses along her skin.

She makes that noise I love, that part sigh, part moan that just gets me harder and leans back into my touch. I snake my hand up and under the shirt and palm her breast, pulling at her nipple.

“Peeta...” she moans and I dip my other hand into her underwear. I rub her clit as her hips encourage my movements and find that she is already wet for me.

When I turn her around I kiss her deeply. I cup her face in both my hands and ravage her mouth with my tongue, licking and sucking and trying to consume her entirely.

“I need to be inside you tonight,” I whisper when we break away.

I see her eyes widen a little in surprise, but she just continues to hold my gaze. After a moment she nods her head in agreement.

I grab her by the hips and hoist her onto my dresser. Then I grab her underwear and tug it off her legs. I get on my knees in front of the dresser and pull her to the edge so she’s even with my face.

I lick the wetness that has already pooled there and start to suck on her clit. She cries out and buries her hands in my hair, pulling me closer, urging me on. 

I love that she does that when I go down on her.

I stand up quickly and shed my boxers before I start rummaging through one of my drawers for a condom. When I finally find one I get it open before she grabs my hand to halt my movements.

Immediately I think she’s going to stop me. Somewhere through the fog of desire I realize that this is all happening really fast and this isn’t the most romantic setting in the world for our first time, but I’m too far gone to turn back now. 

“Peeta,” she says, and there is something in her voice I can’t quite identify.

I meet her eyes, but she looks away shyly. 

“I’ve only....I’ve only done this once before.”

Her words make me pull up short. I’m surprised to hear them; I definitely wasn’t expecting her to say that. I take a deep breath and think about what she’s telling me, that she gave herself to Gale, but that they only did it once.

There are a thousand questions and other things that run through my mind, but none of them really matter right now. All I care about is making love to her and if she’ll still allow it, that’s what I’m going to do.

“Hey,” I tell her, using my fingers to tip her chin up so she has to look at me. “That’s okay. I’ll go slow, okay?”

She nods and bites down on her bottom lip and I can’t wait another second to be joined with her.

I sheathe myself quickly and then position myself at her entrance. I grip her hips and slowly push inside her.

She grabs onto my shoulders as I pull back and push inside her again.

She is so tight. I can tell she has only done this once before. I try and go slow at first, helping to get her used to the feel of me moving inside her, helping to get her accustomed to my length and size.

I’m overwhelmed. I can’t breathe. I can’t tear my eyes away from the spot where we are joined, the sight of me disappearing inside her.

When I look up at her I feel my heart contract. This is what it feels like to make love, I think. It’s not just the physical pleasure, it’s the fact that it’s with her. All I can think, breathe, smell, taste, feel is Katniss and I don’t want it to stop. I want to feel us fusing together, riding the same wave of indescribable pleasure higher and higher until it breaks us and we have to hold onto each other to survive it.

I change the angle of my hips, hitting her with shallow thrusts.

It has never...felt...this....good.

She is perfect. She is wet and her walls fit me snugly and that look on her face, her mouth hanging open as she makes these little groans every time I thrust makes it even better.

“Like that?” I pant, fingers digging into her hips. “Does that feel good?”

“So good,” she cries out and the sound of her voice makes my hips start to speed up.

“Fuck, Peeta yes,” she shouts and now my legs are starting to shake as I try and hold on. “Right there, yes.”

I kiss her briefly and then use my thumb to press down her clit, making slow torturous circles that have her hooking her legs around me and shouting in pleasure.

“You’re so tight,” I tell her, vaguely aware of the dresser banging against the wall.

“Faster,” she shouts, leaning back against the wall. 

“Peeta!” She is screaming now, frantically reaching out and trying to grab hold of anything - me, the dresser, the wall - that will help her hold on. “Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

“Come with me,” I gasp, feeling that familiar tightening, knowing I can’t hold on much longer.

I wrap my arms around her and pull her against me so our bodies are flush and with one last powerful plunge of my hips we explode together, loud and earth-shattering. She is clinging to me like her life depends on it as I feel my release fill the condom, my cock pulsing inside her as she contracts around me. 

She is panting and trembling and I ultimately regain my bearings before she does. 

I pull back just slightly and push the sweaty hair from her forehead. Her eyes are still closed and I only now realize she’s still wearing my white button up shirt.

I pull out of her and remove the condom, tossing it in the waste basket near by. Then I lift her up from the dresser and she wraps her legs around my waist. I bring her over to my bed and lie her down. I pull back the covers for us as she rolls to her side, still in a daze from her orgasm.

I crawl into bed beside her so we are facing each other, our legs entangled, our faces mere inches apart.

I watch her quietly, trailing my thumb over the line of her cheek bone, the softness of her lip, the tip of her nose.

She slowly opens her eyes after a few moments and looks at me.

My heart swells and my stomach flips.

Even after making love to her, just a simple look, just her smile is enough to get my heart racing. She is perfect. She is beautiful. I think about how lucky I am to have her, to love her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

I apologize at the exact same moment that she thanks me. We look at each other, both startled by the other’s words. Then we start to laugh together, chuckling at the fact we could share such different sentiments after doing that for the first time together.

“Why are you thanking me?” I ask her quietly.

She reaches out and runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck. It’s amazing how good that simple touch feels.

“Because that was perfect. It was better than I could have ever imagined,” she shrugs.

I smile at her and grab her hand from my neck and place a kiss to her palm.

“Why are you apologizing?” she questions.

I don’t exactly meet her eyes when I answer. “Because I’m sure that wasn’t what you had in mind for our first time together.”

“Peeta,” she laughs, that breathless giggle that I love. She grabs my face and makes me look at her. “It was with you. That’s all that matters. I wasn’t expecting candles and roses or anything,” she teases.

“Yeah, but...” I trail off when I realize that I’m the only one naked here. That’s not okay.

I reach out and slowly start to undo the buttons on the white shirt she’s wearing, the only clothing left on her body.

“I still wanted it to be special,” I tell her, undoing the buttons that reveal her perfect breasts to my hungry eyes. “I wanted to take my time. I wanted to go slow. I wanted to undress you.”

“You’re taking care of that now,” she says, her voice raspy as I undo the final buttons, pushing the shirt off her shoulders. 

Seeing her tits exposed for me, her nipples getting hard and waiting for my eager mouth makes me impatient. I roll her over so she is on her back and move over her. 

“You...” I tell her, kissing her softly and sweetly, “...are...” I lick her, stroking her tongue with my own, “...perfect.”

I dip my head to her breasts and suck her nipple into my mouth. I pull away and she arches her back towards me, desperate for more.

“And you should be worshipped. And it shouldn’t be rushed. And when I make love to you it should be worthy of your perfection.”

She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me against her. Her hands run through my hair as my mouth returns to her breast while my hand caresses the other one.

“Peeta...” she says breathlessly and I think she’s just gasping my name, but then she continues.

“Can I ask you something?”

I look up at her curiously, suddenly curious at the look in her eyes. I roll to my side and take my hand away from her breast.

“Anything,” I tell her truthfully.

She starts fiddling with my hair again and looks away nervously. “Umm...well...I uh...you know that I’ve only done this once and with who...”

My stomach clenches at the reminder and I’m beyond thankful that she didn’t use his name. I shake my head to clear it and remind myself it doesn’t matter what happened before this. All that matters is this moment. She and I together.

“I uhh...I was just wondering...and you don’t have to tell me or anything...but uhh...I was just wondering how many people you’ve been with?”

“Four,” I reply immediately.

She looks up at me startled, like she wasn’t expecting me to answer so quickly or even at all.

“Not including you,” I add and she nods her head as this information washes over her.

“Is that okay?” I ask after a while when she doesn’t say anything.

“What? Yeah, of course, I was just wondering,” she assures me.

I can see a flicker of something I can’t quite identify in her eyes so I go on to explain.

“I lost my virginity the summer before college. We went to high school together. I didn’t really like her like that, but everyone kept talking about doing it and making it out to be this bad thing if you hadn’t, so it just...happened one night.”

I glance up and see that she’s listening with rapt attention so I continue.

“I had a one night stand sophomore year of college. I decided those weren’t for me. And then I started dating Carrie junior year and we were together for about eight months.”

“Did you love her?” She interrupts me and the look on her face is almost like she couldn’t help but ask, but that she’s afraid of the answer.

“No,” I tell her simply. “At times I thought I could, but I realized that’s not something you try and force. I think that’s why things ended. She knew I wasn’t totally invested.”

“She broke up with you?”

I nod my head in response. “And after college there was another girl. We were never really together. We went on a few dates, but umm...” I catch myself and think about how I want to phrase this. “It was just physical, there was no connection there.”

She nods her head in understanding and I watch her carefully. I see her mulling all this over, slowly coming to terms with what I’ve just told her. 

She finally meets my eyes again and she smiles, that smile that tells me everything is okay because I have her and she loves me.

“I uhh...I was just wondering because uhh...you’re really good at this,” she tells me and the blush that lights up her cheeks and the way she can’t meet my eyes makes me love her even more.

“Well, thanks,” I laugh, kissing her quickly. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

Our kisses turn to fire quickly and I am more than ready for round two.

“Peeta,” she breathes when we break away, “I um...I like it when you say things..umm...”

She struggles to get the words out and I stay silent, encouraging her to continue.

“I like it when you say...dirty things.”

If I wasn’t hard before, I am as hard as a rock now.

I struggle to keep my composure, swallowing thickly as my breathing starts to pick up.

“Yeah?” I ask her with a smile, palming her breast in my hand. “You like it when I talk about your tits?”

She moans in response and I dip my head to suck on the nipple.

“Or how much I love fingering your clit?” I whisper into her ear as my hand snakes down between her legs and I rub her there.

She cries out, fingernails digging into my shoulders.

This is going to be a fun night.

X

“Oh my god, is this you?”

I come into the living room of my dad’s house and instead of sorting through the books on the shelf like she is suppose to be doing, Katniss is seated on the couch with an old photo album on her lap.

I dust off my hands and come over to sit beside her.

She’s helping me go through my dad’s things to try and figure out what I want to trash, what I want to give away, and what I want to keep. I have to get the house ready to go on the market and I have to get it in somewhat acceptable shape.

I lean over her shoulder and glance at the picture she’s talking about.

It’s me when I was about 8 or 9 at my dad’s bakery.

I am covered in flour, holding up my messy fingers to the camera proudly as my dad looks on beside me with a smile.

“Yup, that would be me.”

“You were sooo cute!” she gushes and I can’t help but chuckle.

“I remember that day,” I laugh. “My dad was teaching me how to make cream cheese frosting.”

“Oh that sounds good,” she says, her eyes lighting up as she turns to me.

“So have you lost interest in sorting through these books?” I ask, gesturing to the bookshelves that line the walls of the room.

“I’ll get back to it in a bit,” she waves me off, redirecting her attention to the photo album as she continues to flip through the pages of my childhood.

I can’t really explain the warm tingly feeling that it gives me to have her looking through my past, the pictures from my childhood. It’s like there’s another part of my life that is being given to her, a piece of my heart for her to hold in her hands.

And I trust her with it completely.

Just then the doorbell rings and I walk down the hall to answer it.

When I open the door, I’m greeted by the sight of Carrie, holding a tupperware dish.

“Hi,” she laughs nervously.

“Umm..hey,” I respond, surprised by her presence, unsure what to really say.

“So umm...I made way too many of my famous brownies this morning...you know how I get when it comes to baking,” she starts to ramble, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. “And I saw your car out front when I drove by earlier so I thought I’d just come and drop some of these extra ones off, see how you’re doing with everything.”

She smiles at me earnestly and I’m genuinely touched by her concern, that she would even still think of me and my loss after a few of weeks.

“Well, thank you,” I tell her, taking the tupperware dish as she offers it to me.

“I did always love these brownies,” I admit and we share a laugh.

“I figured they would be good comfort food,” she says with a smile.

We hesitate for a moment, a second of silence between us as we stand there awkwardly, searching for something to make this easier, more comfortable for the pair of us.

I briefly think of inviting her inside and then decide that being in a room with my girlfriend and my ex-girlfriend sounds like the worst idea possible.

“So how are you handling it?” she finally asks and I’m part thankful for something to talk about and part angry at the familiar tension in my chest when I think about my dad passing. 

I shrug, leaning against the doorframe. “You know...” I trail off, “...there are good days and there are bad days.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she agrees giving me a look of understanding.

“I remember how close you were with him,” she says, adjusting the strap on her purse.

Before I can even think of a response I feel two arms snake around my waist and a chin come to rest on my shoulder.

“Hey you,” I hear Katniss whisper in my ear, her voice soft and breathy, like she’s trying to turn me on.

I don’t usually hear that tone from her unless we’re in private, but maybe she hasn’t seen Carrie on the front step yet.

“Uh hi,” I stutter, turning around and pulling her into my side.

This is not awkward at all. Nope, not awkward in the least.

“You remember Carrie, right?”

“Of course, nice to see you,” Katniss smiles at her, as one of her hands finds its way into my back pocket and she uses the other trail her fingers under the hem of my shirt, lightly running them against the bare skin of my stomach.

I take deep breaths and will myself not to let my mind wander to the things I’d like to be doing with her and to her right now.

I look at her as she eyes Carrie with a tight smile, her hands wrapped firmly around me, teasing touches that are meant to illicit a response from me. I consider the idea that maybe she’s trying to claim her territory and I’m equal parts turned on and concerned that she feels there is even a need to do that, that she doesn’t know that I’m completely and totally hers.

“You too. It’s Katniss, right?” Carrie returns the sentiment with a smile. “Yeah, I was just dropping off some baked goods. I always go overboard and make too much.”

“Oh great!” Katniss returns a little too enthusiastically, taking the plastic dish filled with brownies from my hands.

“I love brownies,” she smiles. “These will be perfect for dessert tonight,” she says with a hint of mischievousness in her eyes as she leans up and plants a kiss on my cheek. 

“It was nice seeing you again,” she tells Carrie before turning and disappearing back into the house with the brownies.

“Um...well, thanks for dropping by, I really appreciate it,” I tell Carrie, deciding I need to go talk to Katniss about that little scene that just played out.

“Of course,” she nods, moving down the front stairs. “Take care, Peeta,” she says with a smile and a wave before turning and walking back to her car.

When I return I find Katniss in the kitchen biting into one of the brownies already.

“These are really good,” she says through a mouthful of chocolate.

I bite my tongue, wondering now if I should really bother even bringing it up. Maybe it was just all in my head.

“I thought we were going to save those for dessert,” I tell her with a laugh, pouring her a glass of milk.

“I had other ideas in mind for dessert,” she tells me, her voice husky as she slowly comes over to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and dipping her hands into my back pockets.

She pulls me against her until our bodies are completely flush, every inch of me lined up with her.

“I like the way you think.”


	15. Chapter 15

It’s funny, I think, how easily Peeta and I have fallen into a rhythm together.

Since we’ve officially gotten together it has been pure bliss. We can’t keep our hands off each other, but even more than that, we are so perfectly comfortable with one another.

I decide that because Peeta and I spent so much time getting to know each other before anything really happened, it helped us build a solid foundation for our relationship. I feel the passion between us burning hotter than ever, but I also feel really close to him emotionally. 

These are the thoughts that are running through my head as Peeta and I make our way down the aisle of the grocery store, Peeta lazily pushing the shopping cart ahead of me as I admire his perfect behind.

My mind starts to drifts to things I want to do to that behind when we get home.

He stops suddenly and turns around, startling me as I almost walk right into him.

“Enjoying the view?” he teases, quirking an eyebrow at me.

I blush and feel myself get a little flustered.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I return, trying to compose myself. “You go get the stuff for the salad tonight, I’m going to go get the steaks.”

“Shouldn’t that be the other way around?” he ponders to himself.

“Go!” I order him, slapping him on the butt as he heads down the aisle on his way to the produce section. I give myself a few fleeting moments to watch his behind in those tight-fitting jeans and then finally turn away.

After picking up the steaks, I head over to the produce section in search of Peeta. I get delayed momentarily as I try and figure out what salad dressing to buy and then I resume my search.

I stop in my tracks, hiding behind the collection of tomatoes when I spot Peeta.

He’s not alone though.

He’s standing near the lettuce talking to Carrie.

I watch them carefully, making sure I can’t be seen. I take a few deep breaths and try and calm myself down.

I’m not a jealous person. 

I’m not.

And I trust Peeta with my whole heart.

But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t rub me the wrong way to suddenly have his ex-girlfriend, and the only girl he’s ever really dated before me, suddenly pop up in our lives now.

I could handle her showing up after his father died. I even thought the gesture was sweet. But when she started coming by unannounced with baked goods it started to irk me just slightly.

And now this. I know it’s completely innocent and just a coincidence, but that doesn’t mean I can just rationally calm the small part of me that is starting to hate the sight of her. 

Every time I look at her, all I see is her and Peeta together and I hate it. I know I’m being completely unfair, especially seeing as how Peeta had to see Gale and I together all the time when we first met, but I can’t help it.

Seeing her laughing at what he’s saying and reaching out to touch his arm starts to make me fume. Their interaction look harmless enough and I’m sure little touches like that are natural with someone you have a history with, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I suddenly have the bizarre desire to march over to them and stick my hand down Peeta’s pants, grabbing his length and working him up and down just to show her I can, just to show her that he is mine. 

I shake the ludicrous thought from my head as Carrie waves at him and starts to push her cart away. When she has disappeared far enough away from the produce section I wander over to Peeta and place the steaks in the grocery cart.

“Hey, I was wondering where you were,” he says, easily slipping an arm around my waist and kissing my cheek. 

The gesture calms the earlier anger I had been feeling, reminding me that I was being completely insane and ridiculous.

I have absolutely no doubt of Peeta’s love for me.

“Get all the salad stuff?” I ask, happy to shake the Carrie memory from my mind, happy to forget about her completely.

“Yup. Oh hey, I just ran into Carrie,” he informs me and I try hard not to cringe at her name. 

I tell myself that I should be focusing on the fact that he just openly told me about it, that he clearly trusts me, that there is nothing more to it.

I make a noise of vague interest as I continue searching for the perfect cucumber.

“She wants to pick my brain with some of my experiences in grief counseling for her thesis paper she’s working on,” he explains. “We’re going to grab lunch next week.

“Oh?” I try and respond as calmly as I can, even as the green-eyed monster is roaring to life inside me, throwing caution to the wind when it comes to maintaining any sense of rationality. 

“Yeah, I told you she’s in grad school working for her Masters in Social Justice, right?”

I offer him a tight smile, forcing myself to pretend like I’m completely unaffected by the thought of them grabbing lunch together. I also force myself not to imagine Carrie grabbing other things.

“Well, I think we have everything!” I announce loudly, grabbing the cart and ready to push it away towards the checkout lines.

I take two steps before I feel his hand wrap around my arm, pulling me back

Before I know what’s happening I’m pressed up against him, one of his arms wrapped around my waist, one hand cradling my face.

“Katniss...” he breathes and the look in his eye takes my breath away.

He gazes into my eyes but doesn’t say anything. He just smiles and trails my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. 

I feel my heart stutter as I realize what he’s trying to say without actually saying it.

He loves me. I’m the one he wants. I have nothing to worry about.

I give him a smile, all the tension from earlier melting away.

“Love you,” I mumble, before we lock lips in the middle of the produce section, oblivious to everyone around us.

When we finally break away he’s wearing that naughty grin I love so much.

“Let’s get home,” he says, tugging on my hand. “I have plans for you after dinner.”

X

It’s just starting to get dark by the time we get home.

We used our free Saturday to do something I haven’t done in years. Something I never really thought I would do again.

We visited my parents’ graves.

Peeta, Prim, and I made the short drive out to the cemetery where my mother and father are buried side by side.

It was emotionally exhausting and there were more than a few tears shed, some laughs too thanks to Peeta, but I’m glad we went.

I know having Peeta there made all the difference in the world.

“You want some mac ‘n cheese, little duck?” Peeta asks Prim as the two of them raid our fridge just as we walk inside.

“Oh, yes please!” Prim replies happily, jumping up on the counter as Peeta starts pulling out the pot to cook with.

I go straight to the living room and collapse on the couch, comforted by the sound of the two people I love most in the world, talking and moving about in the kitchen.

“Hey! I thought we agreed on mac ‘n cheese!” I hear Peeta’s voice protest.

I raise my head to peek over at Prim sitting on the kitchen counter, working her way through a bag of cookies.

“I like having dessert first,” she mumbles through a mouthful, crumbs on her face.

“Oh yeah?” Peeta’s voice challenges her. “Well I don’t like it. You’re not going to have any room left for dinner.”

“Come on, spit it out!” he starts teasing her, reaching for her sides and tickling her.

The sounds of her shrieking laughter and her protests brings a smile to my face as my eyes start to drift close.

The emotional weight from the day has taken its toll on me and the comforting sound of their laughter lulls me into a brief sleep.

When I wake up a short time later there is a bowl of mac ‘n cheese on the coffee table in front of me. My feet are in Peeta’s lap and he is sitting on the couch beside me. Prim is sitting in the adjacent chair flipping through the channels on the TV.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Peeta says quietly when he notices I’m awake. “How are you feeling?”

I sit up on the couch and plant a grateful kiss on his cheek. “I’m fine,” I assure him, “I just needed that quick nap.”

I eat my bowl of mac ‘n cheese quickly, not realizing how starved I actually was. I glance at the clock and realize it’s still fairly early.

“Hey, look what came in the mail,” Peeta holds up the informational packet from the local community college that was lying on the coffee table. I already signed up for a few classes and I start next week. 

I have mixed emotions about it, both nervous and excited to go back to school.

“Oh, that’s right!” Prim smiles happily, diverting her attention away from the TV. “Katniss, you only have a week left of summer before school starts.”

“Thanks, I’m aware of that, Primrose,” I tell her and she can barely contain her glee at the idea of me having homework again.

She sits up straighter in her chair. “This is your last weekend of fun!” she exclaims. “Peeta, you guys should go out and do something tonight. I think you guys need to get out more often anyways. You spend all your time in the bedroo-”

“Okay!” I shout at her loudly, cutting her off. I fix her with a death glare, but she just smiles back at me obliviously.

When did my little sister get so much spunk? I think those few months with Effie had more of an affect on her than I realized.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Peeta muses, looking over at me curiously. 

“And what about you?” I ask Prim. “Hazelle and the boys aren’t home, you can’t stay over there.”

She rolls her eyes at me like I’m completely clueless.

“Uh newsflash! Katniss, I’m about to be 15! I think I can handle staying home alone. Effie let me do it all the time,” she explains.

“Why are you so eager to kick us out of the house?” Peeta asks before I can say anything.

She smiles coyly and shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I be? Turn the music up, watch what I want, eat all the ice cream in the fridge. Come on, you two. I need some alone time!”

I eye her skeptically, but she gives me her best puppy dog face and my resolve starts to crumble.

Peeta looks over at me with a shrug. “I can call Finnick and Delly, see what they’re up to,” he suggests.

“Yes!” Prim squeals.

I shoot her a look and she wipes the grin off her face.

“Music goes off at 10, no one is allowed over, and if there is as so much a plumbing issue you call me immediately!” I tell her sternly.

She nods her head emphatically.

“I’ll go get dressed,” I tell Peeta as he pulls out his cell phone.

“You can keep her out as long as you want,” I hear my sister whisper to Peeta when my back is turned.

He laughs and I hear him respond before I disappear into my bedroom. 

“Thanks for the permission, little duck.”

X

We meet up with Delly, Finnick, Annie, and Johanna at the usual bar. When I offer to be the DD, Peeta smiles and then whispers in my ear that he’s not having more than 2 drinks tonight because he has...plans...for when we get home.  
 His words send a thrill down my spine and causes me to clench my thighs together.

I spend the first half of the night tucked into Peeta’s side at the table as he nurses his beer. It feels so good to be surrounded by friends, to watch Finn and Annie so clearly in love, to watch Delly tease Peeta relentlessly, to watch Johanna laugh and smile and joke, happier than I’ve ever seen her.

When he finishes his first drink I offer to go grab Peeta another one. He tries to protest, but I place my hand on his thigh and lean down to whisper in his ear.

“Let me take care of you,” I murmur, inching my hand higher up his leg.

“Oh God, get a room,” Johanna interrupts our moment, making a gagging sound.

“Seriously, you two are as bad as the soon-to-be newlyweds,” Delly agrees.

Finn pulls away from where he had been kissing Annie’s neck. “Hey, leave us out of this!” he protests.

I just turn away with a laugh and head towards the bar.

I’m fighting my way through the crowd when I hear the familiar voice.

“Katniss?”

I turn around. Madge Undersee is standing there looking just as blonde and as beautiful as I remember her. She was my only friend in high school and we kind of drifted apart when she left for college, but I always thought of her as my only close friend growing up. 

“Oh my god,” I say, breaking out of my trance.

She smiles and steps forward, pulling me into an embrace. 

“It’s so good to see you,” she says when we pull away. “God, it’s been forever.”

“I know,” I agree. “What are you doing back? I thought you lived at school full time, got a job there during the breaks and everything.”

She shrugs, “I transferred to State. I guess I missed it here more than I thought,” she laughs.

“Wow, that’s great!” I tell her truthfully because the idea that she’ll be living back home again is welcomed news.

“Yeah, hey I’ve got to get back to my friends, but let’s catch up soon,” she says with a smile and we part ways with another quick hug.

I make my way around to the other side of the bar where there are less people and order Peeta another beer.

After I get his drink I’m working my way through the crowd back to the table when I spot another familiar face. 

Gale is at a table with a few of his friends that I recognize from his work.

Luckily, Glimmer is nowhere in sight.

I study him for a moment and then realize he doesn’t see me. In fact, he seems to be completely focused on just one thing. He has barely torn his gaze away from the sight and he is clutching his drink anxiously.

I follow his line of sight and spot Madge at a table across the way with a few of her friends.

The realization dawns on me, and I find myself walking up to his table before I can think better of it.

He still doesn’t notice my presence when I’m just a few feet away.

“Hey,” I say, startling him out of his trance.

“Jesus, Catnip, I didn’t see you,” he says, clearly flustered. I smile at him mischievously.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you busy?” I raise my eyebrows at him knowingly, before glancing over at Madge.

He flushes and grabs the back of his neck.

“Is it that obvious?” he mumbles.

“It was obvious in high school,” I laugh.

I decide to be nice. “She’s back home for good now, you know.”

His head snaps up and he looks at me curiously, like he’s deciding whether to believe me or not.

“Seriously,” I insist. “You should go for it.”

“You know, she’s always had a crush on you,” I tell him in a conspiratorial voice before punching him in the arm playfully. 

I turn and walk away before he has a chance to respond.

When I get back to the table I place Peeta’s beer down in front of him and then he pulls me down so I’m sitting on his lap.

As the rest of the night progresses we get split up when Annie pulls me over with Delly and Johanna to talk wedding details and Finn drags Peeta over to play a game of darts nearby.

I’m trying to force myself to be a girl and be enthusiastic about dresses and floral arrangements as the girls talk around me, but my eyes keep wandering over to Peeta.

He catches my eye after he gets done with his turn throwing darts and the subtle wink he gives me makes me flush and look away, trying to stifle the grin on my face.

I force myself back into the conversation.

“Have you started looking at venues?” Delly asks.

“Don’t get a lame DJ that plays ‘YMCA’ and shit like that,” Johanna warns.

I’m about to insert my two cents when I hear my phone go off. 

I sneak it out of my purse and open the text message.

Peeta: you know what I’m thinking about right now?

I glance over at him casually drinking his beer and watching Finn shoot darts across from our table. He has his phone in one hand and he looks over in my direction.

My phone buzzes again.

Peeta: burying my head between your legs when we get home

My breath catches and I find myself biting down on my bottom lip to try and control the flood of heat that rushes through me from his words.

Just the mental image of him going down on me is enough to make me start fidgeting uncomfortably at the table. I clench my thighs together and I’m torn between wanting to calm the ache between my legs and wanting friction for my now throbbing clit.

Being intimate with Peeta has completely changed everything I thought I knew about my sexuality.

I want him all the time. He makes me feel the burning desire that has me thinking about sex constantly. I touch myself and think of him when we can’t be together. I daydream about going down on him. I ride his cock with reckless abandon until he makes me come multiple times.

It also doesn’t hurt that Peeta always says the hottest things that take me by surprise.

He has the gentlest soul and the dirtiest mind.

When I glance over at him, he has his back to me as he prepares to throw a dart. I shake my head in annoyance that he can appear so calm and composed while I’m over here getting worked up at the thought of what we’ll be doing when we get home.

I type up a message quickly and send it to him.

Katniss: you know what I’m thinking about right now? sucking you off in the car before we even GET home

I watch him carefully as he retrieves his cell from his pocket after finishing his turn throwing darts. He is taking a sip from his beer as he opens my message and when he reads it the effect is almost comical. His eyes go a little wide and he nearly chokes on his beer, coughing roughly as Finn slaps him on the back while laughing.

When he has calmed down enough he looks over at me and I shoot him a wicked grin before turning back to the girls.

“Katniss, stop making bedroom eyes at Peeta,” Johanna chides me.

“Seriously,” Delly agrees. “You two always look like you’re ready to jump each other’s bones. I mean it’s cute and all, except it kind of makes me nauseous.”

“Hey, we’re not that bad!” I protest. “What about Finn and Annie? They’re the worst perpetrators here!”

Annie holds up her left hand proudly. “Yeah, but I’m engaged now. It’s not annoying anymore, it’s beautiful and romantic,” she laughs.

I roll my eyes with a smile and check my phone when it buzzes again.

Peeta: is that a promise?

I sneak a peak over at him and we share a look before I send him a response.

Katniss: have I ever gone back on my word? ;)

My fingers hover over my phone, suddenly feeling a new found sense of confidence from I don’t know where. I quickly type out another message and send it before I can think better of it.

Katniss: i’m so wet for your cock right now

I feel this nervous energy running through me as I second-guess what I just sent. I keep my eyes glued to the table, unable to look over at him anymore.

I take a sip of my water and then feel a strong hand wrap around my arm.

Peeta is practically dragging me out of my seat.

“It was good seeing you guys tonight,” he says with a charming smile directed at the rest of the girls. “We’re going to head home now.”

I barely have enough time to grab my purse as Peeta pulls me into his side.

“So soon?” Delly questions.

“Yeah, well you know, Katniss left Prim home alone for the first time so we don’t want to be out too late,” he replies with an even smile. 

“Um, okay,” Johanna laughs, looking between us a little skeptically. “Bye guys.”

We barely manage a response before Peeta is dragging me out of the bar, tugging on my hand eagerly as I dissolve into a fit of giggles.

When we make it outside to his car he pushes me up against the side of it and kisses me, hot and needy, his tongue exploring my mouth.

“I’m not going to be able to wait until we get home,” he pants. “I need you now.”

I grin and kiss him again. “Backseat is okay with me.”

“I didn’t know you had it in you to send me a text like that,” he chuckles.

“Well, I’ve been learning from the best,” I tell him as we slide into his car.

I make quick work of unbuttoning his jeans as his fingers slip past my panties, finding me wet and ready.

The windows are completely fogged up by the time we’re done.

X

I raise my hand to knock on the door to Peeta’s apartment, nervous excitement running through me.

I haven’t seen him in almost a week and while rationally I know it’s not that long, it still feels like it’s been forever. 

With having school and homework to deal with again and still trying to balance work, I’ve been swamped. And he’s had work and finalizing the sale of his dad’s house on his own plate, so we haven’t had as much time to ourselves as we would like. 

Tonight, however, I’ve decided to go out of my way to make our first free evening to spend together special.

I swung by the store on my way over here and picked up a bottle of wine and some ingredients for dinner. The plan is to cook us a meal we can enjoy together and then spend the rest of the night in bed getting a rigorous workout.

So that’s why it’s hard to mask my disappointment when Finnick answers the door instead of Peeta.

“Hey Katniss!” he greets me warmly. “Come on in.”

I step inside the apartment suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Hey Finn, umm is Peeta here?”

“Uhh unfortunately not,” Finnick says, looking like he’s debating whether to tell me something or not. “He umm...I think he actually mentioned something about getting dinner with Carrie.”

It’s hard not to feel my stomach bottom out and my heart start to flutter uncomfortably in my chest at this news. My mind automatically goes to a bad place, thinking the worst as anger and jealousy invade my senses.

I take a deep breath and tell myself to hold it together so I don’t come across like a paranoid, psycho girlfriend in front of Finnick.

“Oh darn,” I try and pull off my most unaffected look. “I was actually hoping to surprise him with dinner tonight,” I say, holding up my bag of groceries.

“I’m sure he’s going to be kicking himself that he missed it,” Finn tells me, and I appreciate him trying to make me feel better. “But um...he should be home pretty soon...you’re welcome to hang out here,” he says, gesturing around their apartment. “I was actually just headed over to Annie’s, but feel free to make yourself at home.”

“Thanks Finn,” I say, putting down the groceries I won’t be needing now on the counter in the kitchen.

When he leaves I plop down on their couch and start to surf the channels, hoping to distract myself from the thought of Peeta out to dinner with Carrie.

I’m having an internal battle with myself as a part of me is completely losing my cool over the idea of them together. Logically, I know it’s nothing and I know Peeta loves me and I trust him with my whole heart. The problem isn’t really Peeta though, it’s Carrie. I keep having these crazy paranoid thoughts that she’s trying to win Peeta back and that she’s just slowly working her way into his life again and is going to try and put the moves on him. 

Even if she does just have nothing but honorable intentions, it doesn’t change the fact that they have a history together. They’ve slept together. The mental image pops into my head of the two of them having sex and it literally makes me sick to my stomach.

Stop it, I order myself. You’re torturing yourself for no reason. That’s in the past now. I can’t fault Peeta for his previous relationships.

But another nasty voice reminds me that part of the reason that Carrie makes me so uncomfortable is because she was the only real relationship he ever had before we met. He didn’t just sleep with her; they dated and they even split up on decent terms.

I shake my head to clear it. I’m being ridiculous. There’s nothing going on and there’s nothing for me to be getting so worked up over.

They’re probably out discussing that paper she’s writing.

I grab my phone and send him a quick text though just to let him know I’m here and asking when should I expect him back.

That idea, however, completely backfires on me when he doesn’t respond.

I don’t expect him to respond right away considering he’s at dinner but after an hour passes, I start to feel mildly irritated. As it creeps closer to two hours without a reply, I am downright annoyed.

I surf the channels, not really focused on the TV and instead slowly becoming more and more upset with each passing minute.

The more time that passes without a response from Peeta, the more I slowly convince myself that something about this dinner isn’t right.

Why are they out so late?

Why isn’t Peeta answering me?

Do they really need to discuss a research paper over candlelight dinner?

I’m irrationally upset and have completely lost my composure when I check my phone to see there is still no reply. Almost 3 hours after I sent him a text and he’s been too busy with Carrie to bother acknowledging me with a reply.

I’ve just about made up my mind to head home and ignore him for a day and see how he likes it when I hear the sound of keys in the front door.

My gut twists with relief and anxiety, not sure if I want to scream at him or run and throw my arms around him.

When he sees me he breaks out into a huge grin, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey,” he says, throwing his things on the table. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise.”

He walks over to the couch like he’s about to sit down and join me but I quickly stand up, moving away from him and crossing my arms in defiance.

The frustration of sitting here waiting for him like an idiot the past few hours has boiled up and now it’s ready to spill out.

“It wouldn’t have been a surprise if you had answered my text,” I snap at him, any calm or sane part of me currently non-existent. 

He keeps his tone even when he replies. “I’m sorry, my phone died at work and I haven’t been able to charge it.”

For some reason this answer only upsets me more because now I know that I really was being completely ridiculous these past couple of hours, stewing here and getting upset. Of course, there was a reason behind Peeta not responding to me. He has never purposely ignored me and I should have known something was up.

Unfortunately, I’m not in a rational mindset and instead of letting this whole thing go, I feel desperate to justify my anger and take out my embarrassment and frustration with this whole situation.

“Oh right? Your dinner with Carrie. I hope you two enjoyed yourselves.”

I wince at how ridiculous I sound, but I’m too far gone now to turn back.

I spin on my heel and stomp out of the living room and into his bedroom, for some reason feeling like I needed to make a dramatic exit. The absurdity that I just marched into his bedroom isn’t lost on me.

He follows me into the room and I’m pacing back and forth, torn between my desire to keep screaming and ask for his forgiveness.

“Katniss, what’s wrong?” he asks, clearly concerned. “Carrie wanted my thoughts on her paper so we grabbed a bite to eat when I got off work....that’s it,” he adds, eyeing me a little apprehensively like he’s not sure what I’m going to do from one moment to the next.

I don’t exactly blame him because I feel that unstable myself at the moment.

“Well isn’t that sweet? Just like old times,” I retort before I can think better of it. The moment the words leave me I instantly regret them and wish I could take them back.

The look on Peeta’s face is enough to make me look away in shame. He’s staring at me incredulously and suddenly I don’t feel angry or annoyed at all anymore. All I want is to start this whole night over and apologize to him for being so crazy and make sure he understands that I trust him completely.

“You’re kidding, right?” he says with an incredulous laugh. “Is that what you really think?”

I throw my hands in the air, overwhelmingly frustrated.

“Just forget it,” I say, wishing this conversation was over. I don’t want to try and explain or justify the insecure and petty thoughts that have lead me to this point tonight.

I make a move to brush past him when he grabs my arm and stops me.

I freeze from his touch, my whole body igniting from the feel of his hand on me.

“No, you’re not walking away,” he says in a husky, commanding tone. 

It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize and explain everything and ask if we can start over. 

But that’s before he turns me around so my back is facing him and leads me over to his dresser. 

He pushes on my back until I’m bending over onto the dresser, my chest flush against the wooden surface, my head turned so my cheek is flat on the piece of furniture.

He pushes my skirt up and tugs my underwear down my legs.

My center floods with warm heat, aching for what he’s about to do. My clit starts throbbing and I feel myself pushing back towards him, ready to feel him bury his cock inside me.

He undoes his pants quickly and then I feel his arm around the back of my neck, holding me in place.

When he moves right up behind me, using his knee to spread my legs even further for him I make a small moan of approval, gripping onto the edge of the dresser in anticipation.

He slams into me...hard. My whole body jerks forward from the power of his thrust and I cry out in ecstasy.

“Let....me...make...this....clear,” he grunts, panting the words as he pounds into me. 

Each stroke of his hips is hard and deliberately paced, making sure I feel every inch of him. He pulls back achingly slowly and then drives himself back into me until he is as deep as he can get.

His hand tightens around the back of my neck, never loosening his grip, and I find the thought of him being so aggressive makes me even wetter.

“I am in love with one woman,” he growls, leaning over me so his lips are right near my ear. “And one woman only,” he adds, reaching between my legs and starting to finger my clit.

“Ahhh!!!” I’m screaming now, completely and totally out of control as he continues his relentless punishment on my senses.

He pulls his hand away and stands up again. His hands are gripping onto my hips now almost to the point of pain, but again his aggressiveness only seems to turn me on.

“I’m going to fuck you until you get that,” he says, his voice raspy and full of blind lust. He is driving into me with a relentless, perfected rhythm. I grab onto the edges of the dresser to try and hold on, the pleasure starting to reach a boiling point inside me.

“Fuck Katniss,” he calls out, his hips starting to speed up, his composure slowly slipping away. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, you hear me?” 

I open my mouth respond, but find that I can’t form words. Air escapes me and I’m breathless, open-mouthed pants as I feel my release ready to crash down upon me.

His hips are erratic now, driving toward his own climax in a wild frenzy. He reaches down and circles my clit and it’s enough to push me over the edge. I call out, my entire body tensing, my insides clenching around him as I feel him find his own release almost immediately after.

The waves of pleasure don’t leave me for what feels like a long time and I bask in the ecstasy, content to just lie there with him still inside me. His body is slumped over me, lying partly on my back and partly on the dresser. 

I feel him push some of the sweaty hair away from my face and he leans in close so his lips hover near my ear.

He whispers two words that make me smile and feel warm and giddy inside. Two words that remind me how completely and totally ridiculous I was being earlier.

“I’m yours.”

I smile and kiss him and whisper back, “You’re mine.”


	16. Chapter 16

The house is empty now.

It’s surreal to look around the house you grew up in, the house you shared with your father, and know you’ll never be back, that it will never be yours again.

Just like my father, it will live now only in my memory.

It sold fast and I was ridiculously efficient in clearing the place out.

There were only a handful of things I kept, memories to hold onto. The rest was either sold or given away to good will.

I feel two small, warm arms wrap around my waist, coaxing a grin out of me.

“You okay?” she asks, speaking in a hushed tone.

I turn around and put my arm around Katniss, tucking her into my side.

“I will be,” I answer, kissing her temple. “It’s just hard to say goodbye to this place. It makes it that much more real. It’s like losing him all over again.”

She rests her head against my chest, in that crook near my shoulder, and just hugs me tighter.

After a moment, she pulls away and looks up at me with a soft smile. Then she grabs my hand and pulls me after her. “Come here, I have something to show you,” she says, biting down on her lower lip, a curious glint in her eyes.

She leads me down the hall to my childhood bedroom.

When she opens the door, there is a blanket and a couple of pillows spread out on carpet floor in the middle of the empty room. In the middle of the blanket is a brown paper bag.

“What’s this?” I ask, confused but curious.

“Just come here,” she laughs, hauling me down to the ground on the blanket, the brown bag between us.

She doesn’t say anything. She just hands me the bag and looks at me expectantly.

I glance at her quickly one more time and then open the bag.

“Donuts and bagels?” I laugh, inspecting the contents.

“Well, I wanted to bring cheese buns too, but I don’t know how to make them,” she explains. 

I bite into a glazed donut and savor the sweet treat. Then I ask, “So is there something I’m missing here? Not that I don’t appreciate the food...”

She plays with her hands and looks down at the ground a little anxiously, a hint of a blush starting to color her cheeks. “I um...I got it because it’s what you brought me the morning you came over to my place. The day we went to go see Prim...”

The memory is so clear it hits me with full force. I remember everything about that day. She was beautiful as she answered the door in her PJs, eyes red without any makeup on. The conversation in the park. The almost-kiss when I dropped her back off at home.

It seems so long ago, a different lifetime almost. 

Sometimes it’s hard to believe there was a time when she wasn’t mine.

Now that I’ve kissed her, made love to her, memorized every dip and curve of her naked body, I forget that at one point the idea of doing that was something that only existed in my fantasies.

She must see me smiling at the memory because she continues with a little more confidence. “I just wanted to remind you of that today to make saying goodbye to this place a little easier, I guess.” She tucks her hair behind her ear and then gazes up at me. “I just love everything about that memory, it always makes me smile.”

She scoots closer to me and kisses me gently, softly, molding our lips together.

“I think that was the day I fell in love with you,” she whispers.

My heart is full. I find I can’t form words that are indicative of what I want to express to her or that are worthy of what she deserves to hear.

Luckily, she knows me. She knows me so well because she studies my eyes and understands exactly what I’m feeling. 

She kisses me and then grabs the donut out of my hand and finishes it for herself.

A little while later, we’re full and high on sugar. I’m leaning back against the wall and she is curled into my side.

“Do you know when I knew?”

She turns to me and shakes her head, waiting for me to continue.

“It was the day you shared the letter you wrote to your dad, when you broke down in tears in my office.” I think back, remembering this girl who had turned me away and shut me out, who slowly started to laugh and tease me and eventually accepted my friendship. I had already found her captivating, breathtakingly beautiful and smart and kind. And then she opened up and bared her soul to me, something I knew she had never done before, and that was that. She had my heart in the palm of her hand.

“I remember thinking...I’d never felt this hole in my heart with any of the other people I’d worked with, never felt someone’s pain as fully as if it were my own. That’s when I knew how much I cared about you, more than a friend, more than anything I’d ever felt before.”

Her lips are on me before I can process it. She tugs at the collar of my shirt, and she is making those breathless little sighs and whimpers that I love. She strokes my tongue and sucks on my bottom lip and runs her hands through my hair.

She crawls onto my lap, her other leg coming around so she’s straddling me, her knees bent on either side of my hips.

She pulls away panting and leans her forehead against mine.

“How many girls did you have make-out sessions with in this room in high school?” she asks with an amused smirk.

I laugh. “Not many, I swear. I didn’t have a girlfriend in high school and I was just never really into any of the girls.”

“None of them?” Katniss questions, kissing the hollow of my throat, sucking and licking at the skin.

“Not until you,” I return easily.

She grins and pulls me closer. “With sweet-talking skills like that I find it hard to believe you weren’t bringing girls in here all the time for all sorts of sordid activities,” she teases.

“There may have been a couple of trips to second base within these walls,” I admit and she giggles.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” I say. She pulls away and looks at me curiously.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. And now with the house finally being sold I’m starting to consider it more and more.”

“What is it?” she asks, hands trailing down over my shoulders and arms.

“I was thinking of starting a business. Well, an old business I guess. I was thinking about starting a bakery like my dad used to have. I don’t know, kind of in honor of him, to remember him, I guess? I just want a way to feel close to him again. And I can’t stop thinking about starting a bakery. It feels like the right thing to do. I like baking, it makes me happy.”

I say everything in one breath, getting it all out in a rush so I don’t forget anything. It’s not until I put it out there that I realize I’m actually a bit nervous about what Katniss will think about the idea. I want her to like it. I know she’ll support me regardless, but I want her to really be as excited about it as I am.

“What about grief counseling?” she asks.

I shrug. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it anymore, but I just feel like I’m supposed to start this bakery. I’ve had a satisfying career so far with grief counseling, but I don’t know if it’s what I’m supposed to be doing for the rest of my life. I might still do it, just not as much.”

I look at her anxiously, waiting for her reaction.

To my delight, a beautiful ear-to-ear grin spreads across her lovely face.

“Peeta, I think that is an amazing idea. I love it. I think you should do it.” She leans in to kiss me and I wrap my arms around her.

I feel some tension I didn’t realize I was holding onto slip away. Now that I’ve shared this with the most important person in my life, now that I know that she is on board, I can actually move forward with this plan.

The realization makes me feel light and ecstatic.

We kiss until it turns into something desperate and needy, her hips rocking against the growing bulge in my jeans.

“You know I’ve never had a naked girl in my room,” I tell her between kisses.

“We should give this place a proper send off then,” she laughs.

X

Much later we’re both tired and satisfied, our naked, sweaty bodies intertwined on the floor of my room with a blanket tossed over us.

Her head is resting on my chest, her fingers drawing patterns along my chest. My hand runs up and down her back in a soothing motion, and I feel the temptation of sleep, trying to pull me under.

The smell of her, the warmth and feel of her body pressed against mine, tucked into my side like she was made for that spot is comforting. 

I feel calm. I feel at ease. I feel like I could stay here forever.

“I wish I had gotten to meet your dad,” Katniss says softly, breaking the silence we had fallen into after our lovemaking.

I take a deep breath and try and keep my voice even. “So do I,” I say, a sharp pain in my chest. “I mentioned you to him more than a couple of times.”

“You did?” she says in surprise, sitting up a little to gaze at me.

“Yeah, I mean not really the specifics. But he knew there was a girl I cared about, but that things were um...complicated.”

She smiles and rests her head back on my chest. 

“He just sounds like the best man. I would have love to gotten to know him, to see where all your goodness comes from,” she says, pressing kisses to my bare skin.

Her hands are roaming over me again, and I feel that burning hot desire I have for her that never seems to waver slowly start to roar to life. Even though we just had sex I feel the need to be inside her gnaw at me like an itch that won’t go away.

I run a hand over her hair and then trail it down to her chin, tilting her head to force her to look at me.

“When I found out he had cancer, I was so terrified because I thought....I thought that if I lost him I would have no one. I would have some friends and extended family left, but I wouldn’t really have anyone in my life anymore who I...”

The words die in my throat, and I push back against the wave of emotion that hits me when I think about that horrible sickening feeling that consumed me when I first heard about my dad’s diagnosis.

“I wouldn’t have anyone left like him...” I admit, my voice weak and raw. “I wouldn’t have someone who I felt connected to so deeply, who I felt that a part of my heart belonged to.”

Katniss frowns, her bottom lip jutting out as she looks at me intently. I lean forward and kiss her softly.

“But that was before I met you,” I whisper to her, leaning my forehead against hers.

She bites down on her bottom lip, and I can tell she’s trying not to cry. She keeps her eyes averted from mine and buries her head into the crook of my neck, breathing in my skin.

“It’s the same for me,” she finally manages to say, pulling away just enough, our faces inches a part. “I mean, I had people I cared about, who I loved obviously, Prim...” She takes a deep breath and then continues, “but it wasn’t the same, the way I felt about you was completely different. It was like waking up after being asleep for a long time. I was just going through the motions, surviving, but not really living.”

I kiss her, not able to stand a second longer where her lips aren’t on mine.

I don’t know what it is about today or this moment, but suddenly we’re saying things, confessing things that feel so special and intimate we have been hesitant to approach it before. Maybe it’s being in my old room, lying on the floor, naked and sated from making love. Maybe it’s the fact we’re in this big old empty house that once belonged to my father and will soon no longer be mine that lends itself to secret telling. 

I taste her, stroking her tongue, tracing the fullness of her lips. I kiss her until I’m breathless, arms wrapped around her naked form, holding her against me. She kisses me back with equal fervor, and then I move her on her back so I’m hovering over her.

When we break away, she looks up at me in a daze, and I just stare back down at her with the hint of a smile.

“You know...my dad told me once that he loved this woman before he met my mom, but that she ran off with another guy. He never really gave me girl advice, but I remember him clearly telling me one day that if I was ever lucky enough to find a woman I loved who loved me back to never let her go.”

Katniss smiles up at me, her grey eyes bright and full of life.

“I don’t ever want to let you go.”

And then we are making love again, her cries echoing off the walls of the empty room.

X

My mouth falls open when I see Katniss walk into the restaurant.

She’s wearing a little black dress.

A tight, short thing that clings to her curves and is maybe a few inches too short.

I look her up and down, noticing the sky-high heels she’s wearing that make her legs look like they go on forever.

They do go on forever. I’ve had them wrapped around my waist as I’ve thru-

“Hey guys!” She finally makes it over to our table and I jump out of my seat to greet her.

I slip my arm around her waist and press a kiss to her cheek. I whisper in her ear that she looks beautiful, and when I pull away I can see her cheeks flush from the compliment.

“We’re so happy you made it!” Annie smiles at her as I help push her chair back in to the table.

“My class got let out early, thankfully,” she tells the table.

I return to my seat adjacent from her at the table and try and decide what I want on the menu.

I’m distracted, however, when I feel her foot running up my leg, slipping under my dress pants.

I shoot her a warning glare, and she sends me a naughty smirk. 

I reach over and grab her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of her palm and trailing my thumb across her skin. I look into her eyes and try and make sure she knows what I’m thinking about right now. That I have plans for her when we get home, that I want to take her up against the wall, with her dress and heels still on.

She must be able to read my mind because she bites her bottom lip in that way she always does when we’re both thinking about sex.

“So what’s the news, guys?” Johanna finally pipes up from her spot at the end of the table.

Finnick takes a sip of his glass of water and clears his throat before looking over at Annie.

They intertwine their hands together and then glance around the table at all of us a little anxiously.

“Oh my god, are you pregnant?” Delly blurts out.

Annie’s eyes go wide and then she starts laughing. “What? No!”

“Well, then what is it?” Johanna persists.

“We uh...well, we told you guys we wanted a small wedding, and uh well...we realized small weddings don’t take that much planning,” Finnick starts to explain.

Annie squeezes his hand and then looks back at all of us. “We’re getting married next month, guys.”

We’re all quiet for a long moment as we absorb the news.

I’m the first one to speak. “Wow that’s great, congratulations you guys. We can’t wait to celebrate with you.”

Finnick grins in response, and I stand up from my seat to pull him into a hug while all the girls start sharing their excitement with Annie.

“Thanks man,” Finnick says, patting me on the back.

“Wow, who would have thought you’d be the first one of us to get married?” I tease him.

He shrugs a little bashfully and his cheeks flood with color. 

He meets my eyes and then says, “Thanks man, seriously. This...us...her...it never would have happened without you.”

“You deserve it,” I tell him truthfully. “You guys are perfect together.”

“I don’t think I would have gotten my act together to even have a chance with her without you or Delly though,” he continues, and I want to tell him that I’m not sure that’s true. I think he and Annie were always going to end up together. 

When we retake our seats, I watch Annie reach across the table and grab Katniss’ hand.

“So how does bridesmaid dress shopping next weekend sound?” she asks with a smile.

I see Katniss absorb this news and then break out into a huge grin of her own.

“Really, are you sure? That sounds great,” Katniss beams back at her. I can tell she wasn’t expecting this at all.

“Of course,” Annie assures her. “I don’t have any sisters and you and Johanna and Delly have been the first close female friends I’ve ever had really. That and you’re so important to Peeta, which makes you important to me and Finn.”

Katniss looks over at me with a soft smile, her eyes alight with love.

“I would seriously be so honored,” Katniss says, a little overwhelmed.

I watch Finn put his arm around Annie and give her a quick kiss before directing my attention back to Katniss.

She’s grinning at me and I smile back at her

“Now I just have to figure out who is going to be my best man,” Finn speaks up, looking across the table at me.

“I can’t think of anyone though,” he says with a shrug, and I have to roll my eyes at his attempt at humor.

“Yeah, maybe you should call Brutus from college and see if he’ll be free,” I say, suggesting the complete and total douchebag who we used to hate in college. He was your typical frat guy who was always calling Finn and me faggots for hanging out together.

“Hmm...yeah he’d be a nice option,” Finn considers this for a moment, rubbing his chin like he’s actually thinking it over. “Although I feel like he would probably hire an actual hooker for my bachelor party.”

Annie hits him on the arm lightly. “Oh Finn, stop. Just ask him.”

Finn puts his arm around Annie and presses a kiss to her temple. “I don’t have to ask him, he already knows he’s my best man whether he likes it or not,” he replies.

“And I promise I won’t hire any hookers for the bachelor party,” I assure Annie.

“Oh joy,” she laughs.

Our food arrives and in the middle of dinner, Katniss reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh. I shoot her a questioning look, but she just ignores my gaze and her hand creeps up higher, closer to my groin.

I exhale a little shakily and put my hand over hers, stopping her progress. This time when I look at her, she is pouting, and I can’t help but laugh a little. I lean over and whisper in her ear, “Can’t you wait until we get home?”

“I want you now though,” she purrs back, and I feel the blood rush straight to my groin.

“Give it a rest you two,” Johanna scolds us, and we spring apart like guilty children.

“Aw it’s cute!” Annie sticks up for us.

“So when is it going to be your turn to tie the knot?” Finn asks, raising his eyebrows at me and Katniss.

Katniss immediately blushes and stares down at her lap.

“Dude, they JUST got together,” Delly pipes up.

I don’t even hesitate when I respond though. “One day.”

She looks up at me, shocked and pleased, and I just smile back at her confidently.

X

“Katniss...” I whisper softly into her ear.

She stirs against me as the credits from the movie roll on the TV screen in her living room. 

I glance over at Prim on the love seat in the corner. She’s fast asleep as well.

It has been another typical evening with the Everdeen girls. I came over after work, and we’ve spent most of the night just lying around. Katniss made dinner while I helped Prim with homework, and then we decided to turn on a movie.

“Katniss...” I murmur, nudging her gently. 

She makes a little moan of protest and while I know that she’s awake now, she doesn’t seem to want to acknowledge me.

I drop my hand to her chest, palming her breast in my hand. She’s wearing nothing but a thin tank top, and I start to rub my thumb over her nipple which begins to pucker and harden.

“I know you’re awake,” I inform her, squeezing her breast gently as she pushes into my hand.

“Ugh fine,” she relents, lifting her head and propping her chin on my chest.

“The movie’s over. I’m going to carry Prim to bed,” I tell her, nodding towards her sleeping sister in the chair across the room.

She gets up off the couch and starts folding the blanket we had been using to cover us.

When I gather Prim in my arms, she rests her head against my chest and wraps her hands around my neck.

I walk down the hallway towards her room and nudge her door open with my shoulder.

Katniss is still tidying up in the living room.

I place her down gently in her bed and move to cover her with the blankets. When I’m pulling the cover up to her chin, I notice that her eyes are now open, sleepy, but peeking up at me through small slits. 

“Hey little duck,” I whisper to her with a smile. 

She returns my smile and reaches out to grab my hand, surprising me.

“You really love her,” she says. It’s not a question. She says it in a soft, dream-like voice, gentle and almost in awe, hovering on the edge of sleep, and I wonder how much of this she’ll remember in the morning.

“A lot,” I confirm proudly.

“You helped her so much, Peeta,” she adds, and this time there’s more conviction behind her words. “She was having such a hard time getting by before you. She never smiled. She was sad all the time.”

I take a second to let her words sink in, an uncomfortable pinching feeling in my stomach as I imagine Katniss struggling and unhappy before we met.

She rolls over onto her side and tucks her hands under her face so her cheeks rest on the back of her palm.

“She helped me too,” I admit. “She makes me so happy. I didn’t know I could feel this way about someone.”

I shake my head with a smile, that familiar light, almost like flying feeling, that I get when it hits me just what exactly she means to me coming on full force.

I glance over at Prim, but her eyes are already closed, her breathing slowly evening out. 

I lean down and kiss her on the forehead. 

When I get up and walk out of her room, closing the door softly behind me, I start a little when I see Katniss hovering just outside in the hallway.

She’s watching me carefully, a look in her eyes I can’t quite pinpoint. 

I take a step towards her and she closes the rest of the distance, throwing her arms around me and kissing me deeply. She sucks on my bottom lip, tracing it with her tongue before pushing into my mouth. She strokes my tongue with her own and pulls me closer. My hands automatically wrap around her waist until our entire bodies are flush.

She starts making little moans of pleasure as our kisses evolve into something needy and desperate, and I can feel myself getting hard.

Finally, I break away, catching my breath.

“We, uh, we can’t kiss like that,” I laugh shakily.

“Why not?” she questions, perplexed.

“I uh...I thought it was that time of the month when um...when we can’t really do much,” I mutter awkwardly, feeling my face heat as I realize I’m getting embarrassed and flustered, and I should be able to be a grown-up about this.

She smirks, her hands trailing through the hair at the nape of my neck.

Fuck, that feels good.

“Hmm...that is true,” she acknowledges. “But I heard what you said in there to Prim,” she whispers. “And I want to touch you tonight, I want to show you how much I love you.”

She captures my mouth in another kiss before I can respond.

My hands drop to her behind, and I squeeze her against me, feeling my cock expand from her words. She breaks away and grins at me, taking my hand and dragging me down the hall towards her bedroom.

She closes the door behind me and then pushes me up against it, hands immediately going for the button on my jeans.

“I want your cock in my mouth.”

I almost come right there and then.

She has gotten increasingly more bold and confident when it comes to our bedroom activities. Together we’ve discovered that we like to push the boundaries and get dirty and say things that aren’t for sensitive ears. It never fails to get me going to hear things out of her mouth that are the exact opposite of innocent.

She drops to her knees as my jeans and boxers hit the floor.

She makes a mewling sound of delight as she grasps me in her hand and licks the tip.

I throw my head back in pleasure as I see her lips wrap around my head, the warm heat of her mouth enveloping me.

“Fuck Katniss...” I grunt, placing my hand on the top of her head, pushing my hips forward.

She moans louder as she takes me deeper, one hand reaching out to cup my balls while the other works the base of my shaft. Hearing the noises she makes when she does this makes me harder. I realize it’s probably because I love her, but she is the best head I’ve ever gotten in my life.

She so clearly actually enjoys doing it that it’s such a turn on. I don’t feel like I’m going to owe her later or that it’s just a chore for her. She’s also not really shy about it anymore; she makes it clear that sucking me off really turns her on.

She pulls back, releasing me from her mouth with a loud, wet pop. Then she starts licking me like an ice cream cone, slow, long licks with the pad of her tongue. I stare down at her, transfixed at the sight of her enjoying my dick so much.

She glances up at me with a smile.

“Fuck my mouth, Peeta,” she says, reaching out for my other hand and placing it on her head as well.

My balls tighten immediately and I gasp, taking a deep breath to try and hold on a little longer.

I forget when she started to get comfortable saying these things. I just know I’ve never been more glad about anything.

She takes me in her mouth. Deep. I can feel my tip hitting the back of her throat. I grunt, grasping onto the sides of her head as she wraps a hand around the base of my shaft, letting me go as deep as she can allow.

My hips have started to jerk quickly now, her mouth surrounding me completely. Hot, wet, tight. Fuck. She feels so good and the sight of her taking me in is too much. 

I call out, my hips pushing forward erratically with one last pump and then I explode, my dick throbbing in her mouth.

She licks me clean, finally releasing me as I slump back against the door, panting and sated.

She rises to her feet and kisses me softly. I’m too spent to do anything but lean my forehead against hers and hope she knows how good that was.

I think the fact that I’m still trying to catch my breath is proof enough.

She tells me she loves me and then says she’s going to take a shower.

She disappears into her bathroom, and I can only collapse onto her bed with a tired smile.

I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I’m not going to complain.


	17. Chapter 17

It first occurs to me that something is up when I realize Peeta and I have gone almost three days with just a few words exchanged through text messages.

I ask Prim if she will be okay for the night on her own and then stop by the grocery store on my way to Peeta’s place to pick up something to make for dinner.

I use my key to let myself in and pause in my tracks when I see him asleep on the couch, all the lights off and the late afternoon sun barely illuminating the living room.

Finnick moved into Annie’s place last month so it’s just Peeta now in the two-bedroom space. 

I feel something uncomfortable stir in my gut as I watch him sleep.

The skin between his eyebrows is pinched like he’s upset about something, and the corners of his mouth are turned down slightly. His face isn’t relaxed and peaceful like it always is when he sleeps. He looks upset and distressed about something.

The thought makes me weary with sorrow.

Something is wrong.

It’s not like Peeta to go several days without trying to see me. It’s not like Peeta to just be asleep in the middle of the day. I know his grief counseling work is being scaled back as he starts to take the necessary steps to open up the bakery, but he’s not one to just be listless like this.

I move into the kitchen and quietly start prepping things to make dinner. 

I boil some pasta, throw together a salad, and prepare some sauce on the stove.

Just as I’m finishing up, I hear Peeta start to stir in the living room. 

I make my way over to him and sit on the edge of the couch, gently reaching out to stroke the hair away from his face. 

He doesn’t seem surprised to see me. In fact, he just closes his eyes and leans into my touch as I start to gently caress his cheek with the back of my hand.

“Hey stranger,” I whisper, not wanting to disturb the peaceful silence in the room.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep. 

He traps my hand in his and presses his lips to the back of it.

“I’ve missed you these past few days,” I admit, suddenly feeling like I could cry.

My life just doesn’t feel right when he’s not in it.

He sighs wearily, and I see a dark cloud pass over his eyes. 

“You okay? You seem a little...off.”

He shrugs and doesn’t respond right away, and that’s when I know that something is really wrong.

I frown, my heart squeezing to the point of pain with each passing moment that he doesn’t say anything.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and looks away from me.

“I miss my dad,” he says, his voice trembling.

I bite down on my bottom lip hard to keep from crying.

The words get stuck in my throat, and it feels like I can’t breathe. I can’t think of anything smart or comforting to say so instead I just lean down and rest my head against his chest, breathing hard.

He rests a hand on my head and runs it over my hair soothingly.

“I’m sorry,” I finally choke out, not knowing what else to say. “I wish I could make your pain go away.”

I lift my head to look at him, my lower lip quivering, my eyes blurring with tears.

His own eyes still look sad, but he manages to give me a crooked smile. “I love you,” he says, pressing his lips against mine softly.

“I love you, and I know it hurts, and I’m here for you, okay? I’m always here. You don’t have to deal with this alone. I know how hard it is to do that. That’s how I dealt with it. I don’t want that for you.”

He trails his thumb over my cheek bones and looks at me for a long time.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” he whispers reverently.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I suggest gently. 

He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I just...I just feel...depressed. I miss him. I miss him so much. I still can’t believe he’s not here anymore.”

“Hey,” I coax, trying to get him to look at me. “That’s okay. You’re supposed to miss him, you’re supposed to be sad. That just means that you’re grieving.”

He takes a deep breath and runs his hands up and down my back.

He kisses my forehead. “You’re right, I know you are. I guess it just helps to hear someone else say it.”

“I learned from the best,” I tease him, kissing him quickly on the lips. “Now come on, I made dinner.”

I move to sit up from the couch, but he grabs my arm and pulls me back to him.

“Mmm..and what if I’m hungry for something else right now?” he asks, kissing me again.

I grin, throwing my leg over his body so I’m straddling his waist.

“I would say I might be hungry for that too,” I mumble between kisses. “It’s been a while.”

He laughs, and I know what he’s thinking. For us, a week is considered an unusually long time to go without being intimate. 

“Might be just what I need to get out of this funk,” he breathes, hands trailing down to squeeze my behind. His voice has a teasing tone to it, but when he pulls away, his body goes still and something in his face changes. He looks at me, cupping my face in his hands.

“I need to feel you close; I need to make love to you.”

His words take my breath away and before I know it, our clothes are melting off and landing on the floor. 

He flips me over so he’s on top and then pushes inside me.

It feels so impossibly good that my eyes roll to the back of my head. I cling to the strong muscles of his back as he sets a steady but firm rhythm. My ankles lock around the back of his legs, and I can’t stop the little gasps and moans that escape me every time his hips crash against my own.

I realize that more often than not, our lovemaking is frantic and fast paced, like we’re so desperate to be with each other that we find ourselves doing everything in turbo drive. We fuck hard and wild and ride each other desperately until our climaxes hit us with the intensity of a bomb going off.

But this is something completely different.

This is slow and sweet and perfect. I love the feeling of holding him in my arms as he rocks into me firmly, each thrust slowly building the pleasure between my legs.

He whispers words of adoration in my ear, and our bodies grow hot and sweaty, sticking to each other.

When his hand snakes down between my legs to rub my clit, I come almost immediately.

He finds his release moments after with one final hard, sweet thrust. He stays on top of me for a moment, pushing the air from my lungs. Comforting.

Neither one of us speak, too afraid to break the spell.

Finally he rolls off of me and pulls a blanket over our bodies.

Sleep is tempting.

Dinner can wait.

X

“Let’s stop in here, Brainless.”

I pause in front of Victoria’s Secret and frown, shooting Johanna a confused look.

“Umm I love you, Jo, but I’m already taken. And I don’t swing that way...not that I don’t think it would be fun and everything.”

“Ha!” Johanna actually laughs at that, loudly and with a scoff of disbelief. “Yeah right, Brainless. Like you’d be able to handle me. Hell, you and Sunshine couldn’t handle me together.”

My face turns red when I get what she’s saying. Well, that’s what I get for trying to be clever and funny with the queen of sarcasm, I tell myself. 

“No, but seriously,” she insists, looping her arm through mine. “I want to pick something up.”

I can’t help raising a curious eyebrow in her direction. She completely throws me, though, when she actually looks away and blushes.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” I question her. “Like a reason why you would want to buy lingerie perhaps?”

She shrugs and tries to keep her composure. “There may be....a guy,” she finally answers cryptically.

“And you’re just now telling me this?” I berate her, slapping her on her arm.

“Ow!” she protests, rubbing her arm and pouting at me. “Look, I didn’t think to tell you at first because there was nothing to tell. Delly and I went out one night to a club and there was this super hot guy. We hooked, up but we didn’t fuck. I’m trying this new thing where I actually get to know the person before sex. I didn’t think anything would come from it, but then I ran into him the other day, and he asked for my number. And now we’re, like, going on proper dinner-and-a-movie-dates and I actually like him.”

I find myself grinning as Johanna explains herself. She gets all flustered, her face turning a bit red as she spills the details to me, almost defensively.

“Oh I see,” I begin, “so you want to get some hot fuck-me-lingerie so when that time comes you’ll blow the poor guy’s mind?”

“Something like that.” She shrugs me off and walks into the store.

I follow her in and get her to tell me the guy’s name: Thom. He’s older, handsome and rugged, she says. I look around and debate whether I should get anything for myself. It’s not exactly like Peeta’s and my sex life is lacking. But then again it couldn’t hurt...

After looking for a little bit and then checking the price tags, I decide my current bra and panty collection is getting the job done just fine. Peeta certainly isn’t complaining. 

I find Jo and tell her I’ll be waiting for her outside. She is currently getting her bust size measured by the sales attendant so I figure it might be a while.

I take a seat on an empty bench and pull out my phone. I glance across the way at the food court and spot a familiar face.

Gale.

But he’s not alone.

He’s seated at a small table with a soft drink and a basket of fries in front of him. The blonde hair and fair skin of his female companion immediately tells me her identity although it’s hard to confirm it from this far away.

Madge.

I guess he took my advice after all.

I watch them carefully. I can’t see her face, but I can see his perfectly. His eyes light up as he watches her and his face flushes when he laughs at something she says.

It’s strange, to watch Gale with someone else. I don’t quite know how I feel about it. 

I’m glad to see he’s moved on, to see him happy, I am.

There’s something that is making me uncomfortable sitting here like this and watching them though. Maybe because they were both pretty big parts of my life growing up. And now suddenly...apparently...they’re together. 

I find myself walking back into Victoria’s Secret. I grab the skimpiest piece of lingerie I can find and then head towards the dressing room at the back of the store, where I find Johanna still trying things on. 

“Good, I was just going to call you,” she says when she spots me. “Does this bra say ‘I’m not a slut, but I know what I’m doing’?”

“Umm...is that what you want it to say?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Well, then yes, it definitely says that,” I assure her, but she just rolls her eyes at me and waves me off.

I slip into the dressing room beside her and undress quickly.

I put on the barely-there attire.

The bra has thin straps and isn’t padded. The cups are made from a pink silk fabric with a black lacy see-through area to cover my nipples. I almost blush just looking at it.

The panties are equally provocative. They’re made from the same pink silk and black lacy material as the bra. The front and back are only held together by flimsy black ribbons at my hips. The juncture of my thighs is covered only by the lacy black see-through material, and I can feel the gust in the air conditioned store between my legs.

I bite my lip and stare at my reflection in the mirror.

I don’t exactly consider myself sexy, but imagining wearing this around Peeta or his reaction to seeing me in this definitely has me feeling confident.

I slip out my phone and do something I’ve never done before. Something I know I probably shouldn’t.

I take a picture of myself and text it to Peeta.

My heart is hammering against my chest. I’m just about to slip out of the lingerie when I hear my phone go off.

Peeta: Holy shit....

Katniss: ...you like? ;)

Peeta: Fuck Katniss, I’m so hard right now. You look so good.

I laugh and quickly change back into my own clothes. The image of Peeta hard is threatening to start making me wet and those aren’t my underwear to ruin.

Katniss: shopping with Jo...thought I’d entertain the both of us

Peeta: Are you buying it?

Katniss: Umm...

Peeta: Get it please...I’ll pay you back. 

I grin, shaking my head as I step out of the dressing room.

“What are you so happy about, Brainless?”

“Nothing,” I insist, trying to keep the smile off my face.

“Yeah right. I know that look. I’m guessing it has something to do with Peeta’s dick.”

“He does have a magnificent dick,” I admit dreamily.

Johanna makes a look of disgust and then heads to the sales rack to keep browsing.

When I look back at my phone, I see several unread messages from Peeta.

Peeta: Seriously Katniss. Buy it.

Peeta: I’m literally about to jerk off to that picture

Peeta: Fuck I need to see you in that tonight and get you out of it.

I’m grinning from ear to ear, and my face is flushed, but I don’t care.

I just walk straight over to the register and buy the bra and panties without glancing at the price. Gale and Madge are the farthest thing from my mind. Peeta is who I’m supposed to be with. Peeta is all I need. And we’re both really going to enjoy this lingerie tonight.

X

Annie’s bachelorette party is not what I was expecting.

With the wedding in one week, both Finn and Annie are having their respective nights out with their friends and members of the wedding party. Finn, Peeta and a few of their old college friends spent the day golfing and are going to a baseball game tonight. I was surprised when I heard this, not expecting something low key from Finnick, but apparently this was what he wanted. Peeta told me he offered to book a stripper and everything, but Finn insisted he had no interest in that sort of thing.

That’s why I’m a little taken aback when we walk into the club after dinner. I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be like a knock-off version of Chippendale’s or what, but it seems to be an exclusively female clientele with male bartenders and servers who are dressed in black dress pants, no shirts, and black bow ties around their necks. The music is loud, and the shirtless men behind the bar seem to have no problem dancing and flirting for tips.

Annie’s cousin will be coming from out of town for the wedding so it’s only me, Johanna, and Delly with her tonight. Looking around, I realize that Delly and Johanna must have been in charge of picking this place out.

“And you agreed to this place?” I ask Annie, leaning over and half shouting into her ear to be heard above the music. 

She just laughs and loops her arm through mine, pulling me along through the crowd as we navigate our way to the back of the club.

“I told them to just pick somewhere fun,” she confesses with a grin.

I smile and gawk as a tall, tan chiseled server walks by us and offers us a wink.

I guess there could be worse places. 

We finally get to the back where I discover that we have our own table already reserved for us in the VIP section, roped off and everything. It’s a small glass table surrounded by plush bench cushions. It’s on an elevated level from the main dance floor, and it overlooks most of the club. 

When we take our seats, our server arrives almost immediately, asking us if he can get us anything.

“Shots!” Johanna speaks up, cutting off anything the rest of us were going to say. “And lots of them please!”

She blows the waiter a kiss and stares at his ass for a long moment as he walks away. Then she turns back to the group of us with a big smile.

“I hope everyone is up for a little Girl Talk tonight,” she explains with a grin.

“Like about clothes and our feelings?” Delly returns dryly.

“Hmm....I was thinking more like sex and men,” Johanna replies.

“Johanna!” Annie protests with a little giggle, and the way she flushes just from the word ‘sex’ is pretty damn cute.

“Oh, get over it. That’s what the shots are for anyway. You’ll have no problem sharing after you knock back a few.”

“Why are you so curious?” I ask.

“Oh don’t act like you’re not. If there is ever a time to share all the dirty little details with each other, it’s at a bachelorette party,” she insists.

“Okay, but wait,” Delly interrupts. “Finnick and Peeta are like my brothers. I do not want to hear ANY details about their sex lives with Annie and Katniss,” she explains. “No offense,” she adds as an afterthought to me and Annie.

“Don’t be such a prude!” Johanna scolds her. “If it bugs you that much, just imagine that it’s some other guys with the same names.”

Before Delly can argue against that logic, our waiter returns with a tray that looks like it holds easily 20 shots of vodka. He carefully sets it down and then starts transferring the shots onto our table. Johanna instructs him to place them all together in the center and so slyly tucks a 10 dollar bill into the waistband of his pants.

“Thanks Sugar,” she tells the guy, “we’ll call you when we need you.”

The guy walks away, looking pretty pleased with himself.

“So what’s the plan?” I ask, sitting closer to the table, noticing these shots are pretty generous sizes.

“Well, first off, everyone take a shot,” she commands.

We all reach out for a little cup and then lift them together.

“To Finn and Annie,” Delly speaks up, “the most disgustingly cute couple, narrowly beating out Katniss and Peeta, that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. They’re going to be ridiculously happy together and end up with more rugrats running around than they know what to do with.”

Annie laughs loudly, placing a hand over her heart, looking genuinely touched by the unorthodox speech.

“Cheers to that!” Johanna agrees, and we all clink our glasses together before tossing back the shots.

The liquid burns as it goes down and when I put my glass back, I look around vaguely, wondering if we could bother a server to bring us something to chase with.

“Alright so here’s the deal,” Johanna begins to explain. “I like to think of this as the grown-up version of Truth or Dare,” and I already know this is going to be quite the interesting night. 

“You get asked a question. You can either answer it and the person who asks you takes a shot or you puss out and don’t answer it, and then you have to take a shot.”

Seems simple enough.

“Obviously, I’ll start,” she smiles conspiratorially. She turns towards me and leans forward. I take a deep breath and brace myself.

“Katniss...since you’re always bragging about it. How big is Peeta’s dick?”

Delly groans and puts her head in her hands. 

I can’t help but smile. Well, if it’s going to be like this all night....

“Big,” I admit with a grin.

“Details or you take a shot,” Johanna protests.

I make a sigh of annoyance. “I don’t know, Jo! I’ve never measured him. Maybe 7 or 8 inches when he’s hard? And he’s thick. Happy?”

“Damn,” Johanna mutters before reaching out to take a shot. “I’d be bragging about that too. Okay, your turn to ask.”

“Delly...” I say, getting her attention. She looks at me suspiciously. “Best sex you’ve ever had?”

“Hmm...” she considers it for a moment. “My boyfriend, Thresh, in college. He’s actually going to be at the wedding next week. Maybe we’ll have another go around for old times sake,” she laughs.

I grab a shot and down it as Delly considers her next question.

“So Johanna....are you and Thom still fooling around like a couple of teenagers, or have you finally fucked?”

To everyone’s surprise, Johanna is quiet for a long moment. Then she reaches forward and takes a shot.

“No fucking way!” I shout. “You come up with this game, and you’re going to be the first one not to answer a question?”

She shrugs, unaffected, and then turns to Annie.

“So Annie, my dear....tell us about the best sex you’ve ever had.”

Annie laughs a little nervously and then reaches forward to take a shot. “I’ll answer, but I just need a little liquid courage first,” she explains.

My eyes widen when I see her take two shots in a row, wincing and almost choking on the fiery liquid.

“Well, obviously Finnick,” she begins, and we all crack up. “But it was the night he proposed. He didn’t even have it planned or anything. I think we had just gone out to dinner, and we were back at my place watching TV. I was washing my face and getting undressed, and he just blurted it out,” she smiles at the memory and something tugs at my heart; joy for both of them, and something like longing for my own moment with Peeta like that as well.

She blushes, her entire face and neck and chest turning a light pink and looks down at her hands in her lap. Then she mumbles the words, “I don’t even remember how many times I came that night.”

For a moment we’re all too shocked to say anything, our mouths hanging open as we absorb this juicy little detail.

“Well hot damn!” Johanna finally breaks the silence. “Now that is what I meant by Girl Talk,” she teases, and we all laugh.

“Okay, my turn to ask,” Annie speaks up, clapping her hands happily with a wide smile. I think the alcohol is starting to take its effect on her. “Katniss...tell us something Peeta does in bed that gets you going!” She laughs loudly after asking this, fueled by the alcohol to ask something so daring and clearly amused by her own question.

“Hmm...” I consider this for a moment and then lean forward to grab a shot, “I think I need some liquid courage to answer this too,” I admit, downing the small glass easily. I’m definitely starting to feel a bit tipsy now.

“Umm....well....he...uhh...” I try and think of what to say, unsure just what exactly to reveal.

“Spit it out, Brainless!” Johanna protests as she reaches forward for a shot that she hands to Delly before grabbing one for herself. Apparently this game has turned into just take a shot whenever you feel like it.

“He uhh...he’s really good at going down on me,” I mumble, looking down and feeling my face heat. The alcohol has clearly found its way into my system because I keep talking without really considering it. “And umm...he’s really good at dirty talk,” I add, not realizing that I’m grinning like an idiot.

“No way!” Johanna laughs. “Sunshine has a dirty mouth? Who would have guessed?”

“Ughhh... TMI!” Delly protests, taking another shot.

“Finnick is good at that too,” Annie says to me a little giddily, her eyes starting to glaze over. “You know...oral,” she laughs, covering her mouth with her hand.

I reach out for another shot, feeling like I need an extra something since we’re venturing into unchartered territory here. I’ve never discussed details like this with my girlfriends.

“Yeah, he umm...he has a talented tongue,” I blurt out, immediately laughing even as I blush red, surprised that I admitted as much.

“So sweet-talking Peeta likes eating pussy. Who would’ve guessed?” Johanna laughs.

“Gross!” Delly complains, and I can’t help but giggle at her perturbed look.

“Sorry Delly, but it’s true,” I tell her, and now I can say that I’m very nearly drunk. “I mean...he really likes it,” I explain thinking about the way Peeta licks and sucks me like I’m the greatest thing he’s ever tasted.

“Finn likes it when I sit on his face,” Annie pipes up, and we all turn towards her, completely stunned that she just said that.

“Oh my God,” she mutters, covering her face with her hands in embarrassment, and then we’re all cracking up, dying from laughter.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. I stop after a certain point to make sure that I’m still aware of what’s going on. Delly ends up puking in the bathroom at one point, and Johanna holds her hair back while Annie and I wait in line at the bar for water. We talk about a lot of things, Annie admitting that she wasn’t sure at first about getting married so young, but that she also couldn’t imagine ending up with anyone else but Finnick, so she decided why wait.

I send Peeta a text letting him know I’ll be home soon, but I don’t get any response.

Finally, we make our way out of the club and flag down a cab. Delly is staying at Johanna’s place so they get dropped off first, and then Annie gets dropped off at her apartment until I’m the only one left. 

When I get to my apartment, all the lights are off so I quietly tiptoe down the hall towards Prim’s room. I check on her to find her sound asleep in her bed. I press a kiss to her forehead and then make my way to my own room. 

Peeta is asleep. I drop my things on the floor and kick off my heels.

I look at the clock. It’s half past midnight, and I realize the baseball game must have finished a lot earlier in the night. They probably had a relatively tame evening compared to ours. 

I move to the bathroom to wash my face and realize that I’m still a little tipsy as I almost stumble coming back into my room. 

Peeta looks like an angel he is in such a deep sleep, but I’m anything but tired and seeing all those half-naked men tonight and talking about sex with the girls has made me particularly horny.

“Peeta...” I whisper gently into his ear, coming around to his side of the bed and sitting on the edge. I rub his chest gently and then start to nibble on his earlobe. “Peeta...” I try again.

He stirs and groans a little, but he just smacks his lips together and continues being dead to the world. I huff impatiently and then let my hand trail down to the waist band of his boxers. I slip my hand inside and grasp his cock firmly. 

He makes a little moan of pleasure, and I can’t help but chuckle as he keeps his eyes closed.

“I need you to fuck me right now.” I pump his shaft up and down to get him hard. 

His eyes finally peek open just a bit and he looks at me, part amused and part intrigued.

I tug his boxers down until his semi-hard cock is freed, and then I give it one long lick with the pad of my tongue. “You don’t even have to wake up,” I whisper, taking his tip into my mouth, sucking lightly and swirling my tongue over the slit. “I just need you to get hard for me.”

“And when have I ever not been able to get hard for you?” he mumbles back, shifting in bed, and now I can tell he’s fully awake. And as if to validate the words he just spoke, his cock gets harder and longer before my eyes, and I grin at the sight.

“That’s what I like to see,” I say, taking him deeper in my mouth, sucking and swirling my tongue so the wetness envelops him. His hands go to my head, gently guiding my motions and weaving themselves through my hair.

“Uhh...fuck...” he groans, and then I release him from my mouth.

“Can I ask what’s got you so needy for my cock?” he grins, clearly very pleased with himself. 

“We went to this club that had half-naked men everywhere,” I laugh moving back up his body to join our lips in a kiss. “And then we were talking about sex and doing shots.” I laugh at the memory. 

I tug my panties down impatiently, glad that the dress I wore tonight is stretchy, and can just pull it up and over my head before quickly unclasping my bra and flinging it aside. I grab his dick as I straddle his hips and place him at my entrance. “I was bragging about you,” I tell him just as I sink down onto his length. 

We moan in unison at the feeling of being joined, and his hands go to grip my hips just like he always does when I’m on top. 

“Did you tell them how much you love riding my dick?” He pants, his breathing coming in ragged gasps now, his eyes wide as he watches me go up and down on his cock. A thrill jolts through me at his words, and I can tell that he’s in one-of-his-moods.

One of his moods where he’s going to make me come multiple times. One of his moods where he’s going to let that dirty mouth of his go crazy.

I can only manage an unintelligible groan in response as my movements get more enthusiastic. My hands are braced on his chest as I pump myself up and down his length with a wild intensity. 

“Yeah...fuck...you like it...” he grunts, his hands reaching out for my breasts that are bouncing in rhythm with my movements. He pinches and tugs at my nipples and when he tugs harder I cry out in response.

“You love my cock pounding into you,” he says, his hips starting to strain off the bed as his own thrusts match mine in a hard collision. He reaches out with his thumb and makes tight little circles on my clit, and I explode almost instantaneously.

I cry out, my walls clenching around him as my entire body spasms. The pleasure is mind blowing, but he doesn’t stop. He only pauses momentarily, pulling me down against him as his hands wrap around my back. He kisses me softly, and I’m in such a daze I can’t even move my lips to return it properly.

Then he flips us over so I’m on my back and grabs one of my knees so it’s bent over his elbows, holding my leg in that position up near my chest.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he tells me, resuming his steady and firm rhythm. 

“You want me as deep as you can get it,” he says, pressing hot kisses to my neck and chest, and my mind and body are in a fog, still sluggish from my orgasm. 

I trail my hands up and down his back, fingernails digging into his skin as his thrusts get harder and faster.

“Yes...just like that...yes...fuck!” I murmur incoherently as his pace builds until I can feel the tension building in my lower belly again. 

“Come for me,” he whispers in my ear, and the words are so sweet and gentle, so completely opposite of how he had been speaking and acting moments earlier that it almost startles me. It tugs at my heart, and I feel my affection for him surge in my chest until I’m almost overwhelmed by the emotion. 

I weave my fingers through his hair and with a few more hard pumps, we come together. I shout into the dark room in euphoria as his hips go still and he finds his release.

He slumps against me for a moment and then rolls over onto his back, breathing hard.

“Thanks for waking me up,” he says and I laugh, tucking myself into his side and resting my head against his chest.

“I think I should be thanking you,” I say, pressing kisses to his chest and trailing my hand lazily over his stomach muscles. “Two orgasms in one night.”

“Well, I felt the need to prove myself if you were bragging to the girls tonight,” he jokes, trapping my hand in his and bringing it to his mouth where he presses a kiss against my palm.

“I love you,” I say breathlessly, the words spilling out of me, the sudden need to say them like a compulsion I couldn’t ignore.

He shifts us so he’s laying on his side, and I’m on my back looking up at him. He raises a hand to push some hair out of my face and watches me intently for a moment, his eyes raking over me in such a manner that I have to fight the urge to blush and look away.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that?” he says and his words are quiet and reverent. I feel the lump form in my throat, but I fight to push it down, not wanting to break down.

“I love you, Katniss,” he says, and despite my best efforts my eyes start to get watery.

And then he kisses me and pulls me against him, and we fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms as I think of everything we’ve been through and how lucky we are to have found each other. I think that if after everything we’ve endured, all the pain and loss, that if us finding each other was always at the end of the road then it was worth it, that I would do it all over again without a doubt.


	18. Chapter 18

“So what do you think?”

I gesture to the large empty space that I hope to one day turn into a bakery like my dad’s old one.

“Peeta, it’s perfect,” Katniss tells me, smiling from where she stands by the large windows near the front door.

“I thought over here could be small tables for customers that want to eat in, and I pictured the main counter on that side of the room,” I explain, laying out the details that have been floating around in my mind for a while now. “And I want wood-burning ovens in the back, and there’s even a small room I could use as my office.”

Katniss takes several steps towards me, grinning as her eyes sweep across the room.

“I can see it so clearly,” she says. “This is such a perfect spot. It’s going to be amazing.”

I take a deep, shaky breath and look around, feeling a combination of nerves and excitement twist in my stomach. Despite my uncertainty whether I can really do this, despite my fear that this will be a complete failure, I feel sure that this is what I’m meant to be doing at this time in my life. I feel calm, I feel closer to my Dad, and I feel like this is going to make me really happy.

Katniss spins in a circle taking in the room once again, her arms flung out to the sides, her head tilted back. She laughs, and the sight makes me smile.

Then she stops all at once and looks over at me. She braces one arm on her lower back and uses the other arm to rub her stomach.

“I can not wait to abuse girlfriend privileges and eat everything you make,” she giggles.

But I don’t really hear what she says because it feels like the wind has been knocked out of me. I can’t tear my eyes away from her. The way she’s standing, one arm on her lower back and the other on her stomach, is such the classic ‘pregnant woman stance’ that suddenly I see it so clearly.

I see her 5, 10, 15 years from now with a huge stomach, an achy back and our child growing inside her. I see her barefoot and tired and rubbing her stomach as she whispers to it lovingly. I hear her asking me to go buy ice cream and pickles in the middle of the night. And I hear her telling a little girl with dark hair and blue eyes not to run around Daddy’s bakery.

The thought makes me so breathless, so deliriously happy that I have to shake my head to clear it. I can’t seem to wipe the stupid grin from my face though, and she notices.

“What is it?” she asks, coming closer to me.

I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against me. 

“Just thinking about how much I love you,” I return easily.

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Okay, you cheese ball.”

“I’m serious,” I insist, pulling her closer.

She takes a deep breath and looks at me. Really looks at me. She lifts her hand and traces the line of my jaw and then the ridge of my nose and then the swell of my bottom lip.

She kisses me. She wraps her arms around my neck and parts her mouth just enough so our tongues connect. I pull her flush against me, every part of our bodies pressed up against each other.

“Love you too,” she breathes against my mouth when we break apart. “And this place is going to be perfect for the bakery, I know it.”

I lean my forehead against hers and take comfort in the fact that the person I love more than anything is going to be by my side as I go down this road. This road with so much uncertainty. I don’t know if I’m going to be any good at running a bakery, I don’t know if I’ll even be half as successful as my dad was, but I know that I have to try. I know that this is what I’m supposed to be doing.

“Come on,” Katniss says, pulling away and grabbing my hand. “We got to pick up Prim.”

Her sister is currently at the mall with a couple of her friends. 

Katniss is getting better at letting her be more independent and on her own, but I know that she still worries. I’m always there to assure her that everything will be okay, that Prim will be fine and that she should give her space to grow and be on her own.

When we stroll into the mall hand in hand, Katniss says that we’re supposed to be meeting Prim at the food court. When we get there, I keep my eyes open for the girl with blonde hair and pale skin like my own and I spot her before Katniss does.

But she’s not with her friends.

She’s with a boy.

I feel this surge of protectiveness and anxiety race through me. I think of Prim like my little sister. I love her because she is so important to Katniss, but we’ve also formed our own little bond in these past months. 

I eye the boy she’s with carefully. He has dark hair and olive skin and looks vaguely familiar.

I suddenly imagine him trying to take advantage of her or breaking her heart or a thousand other things that teenage boys do, and I feel like I could puke. The urge to rush over there and put this kid in his place is strong.

“Did you find her?” Katniss asks me, looking around wearily. 

She must see where my gaze is directed at because she turns around and makes a noise of surprise and annoyance.

“She didn’t say she was going to be here with Rory!”

“Rory?” I ask.

“Gale’s little brother,” she grumbles, crossing her arms angrily. 

I deflate a little. If it’s Gale’s brother then the kid can’t be that bad. She’s probably known him for years and grew up alongside him.

Katniss starts to take steps in their direction, but I grab her arm, pulling her back.

“What?” she asks me angrily.

And suddenly I realize I’m the calm and composed one in this situation. I pull her away from the food court and while she doesn’t protest, it’s clear she isn’t happy.

“Come on, let’s give her some time,” I suggest gently.

“But...” she starts to protest and I cut her off.

“She’s not doing anything wrong. Let her hang out with a boy. She won’t get pregnant.”

She narrows her eyes at me, clearly not finding that joke very funny. 

“I just wish she would tell me these things,” she says, looking down and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

I throw my arm around her shoulder and start walking with her through the mall, away from the food court. “If you get all upset just because she’s hanging out with a boy, then you’re just going to make her want to keep those things from you. I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to let her be on her own.”

She sighs and leans into me. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know.” I laugh, placing a kiss to the top of her head.

We walk around the mall for a bit, window shopping but not really going into any of the stores. We’re laughing about something when I see a shop that catches my eye.

“Hey, come here,” I urge her, pulling her along with me.

We step inside a jewelry store, and Katniss eyes me curiously, biting her lip. “Um, were you looking for a new pair of earrings?” she asks me.

I grin at her and pull her toward the counter.

“I want to know what your ring size is and what kind of ring you’d like,” I tell her, watching her face closely for her reaction.

She doesn’t disappoint. Her eyes go wide, and she looks at me in shock, her mouth falling open as she struggles for words.

“Peeta....I....I....” she stutters, looking like she’s trying not to panic.

I bite back a laugh and decide to take some pity on her. “Katniss,” I say gently, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her towards me so we’re off to the side and out of the way. “I’m not asking you to marry me.”

This seems to relax her a little, and she calms down a bit, placing her hands on my shoulders and taking a couple deep breaths. “Then what...” she starts to ask, but I cut her off.

“I guess I just want to be prepared,” I say with a shrug. “I know we’re not ready yet, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it before. I love you. I already know you’re the one. Now it’s just a matter of figuring out when we want to take that step together.”

She stares at me, gaping in astonishment.

“And what kind of ring you’d like. I’d also like to know that because I want to get something that fits you perfectly.”

She bites down on her bottom lip and keeps her eyes cast downward. When she raises them to meet my own, I see that she’s trying to hold back tears. She kisses me, hard and breathless. It’s not so much a kiss of passion as it is one of commitment. I know that with this kiss that she’s trying to tell me that she feels the same, that she sees her future with me, that one day we’ll take that step together. 

“I love you,” she whispers, leaning her forehead against mine when we break away. “And I want to be your wife someday.”

I grin, feeling light and happy and lucky. I grab her hand and drag her towards the jewelry counter.

I move behind her as she peers down into the glass cases that display different types of diamond rings and push my chest flush with her back.

“So what do you think?” I whisper in her ear, and she leans into my touch and grabs my hands in her own to place over her flat stomach.

“I think I don’t want you to spend a lot of money on it. I think I’m a size 5. And I think that something simple would be just fine,” she murmurs as my lips find their way to the crook of her neck.

I smile against her skin.

“I knew there was a reason I want to marry you.”

X

“How do I look?”

I pop my head up from where I sit on the edge of Katniss’ bed tying my dress shoes. She emerges from her bathroom in a dark green dress that hugs her curves. It’s stretchy and looks like it wouldn’t be that hard to get her out of. 

I like it.

I stand up from the bed and walk over to her.

“You know it’s not nice to upstage the bride at her own rehearsal dinner,” I joke, pulling her into my arms.

She rolls her eyes at me but looks pleased with the compliment all the same. “Trust me, no one is going to be able to take their eyes off Annie tonight,” she assures me. “I saw the dress she’s wearing and if Finn doesn’t drag her to the bathroom for a quickie, it will be a miracle.”

I laugh, remembering the way Finn looked at her during the ceremony rehearsal earlier today. He always looks at Annie with complete adoration, but today I definitely got the vibe he was undressing her with his eyes. It’s like the closer we get to the big day the more in love and enraptured he becomes by her. 

Apparently, commitment turns him on. Who would have guessed?

We get to the restaurant where the rehearsal dinner is being held and find our way to the back room where a long table that seats about fifteen is already set up. We exchange greetings with Delly and Johanna and the soon-to-be newlyweds.

Finn’s parents are here and Annie’s cousin from out of town. There is our old friend, Thresh, from college and a couple other friends of theirs I don’t know, but it’s a pretty small crowd. There will only be a dozen or so more at the actual wedding tomorrow.

The food is brought out to us in courses, and it’s feels so good to be surrounded by my friends and the people who matter most to me. I’m so happy for Finn and Annie, so glad that they’ve found each other. Every time I see them sharing a private moment together, I’m reminded of the quiet, broken girl who first attended grief counseling sessions with me all that time ago and the flirtatious and cocky Finn I knew in college.

It’s amazing how finding the right person to share you life with can change everything.

I glance over at Katniss sitting beside me. 

She’s mid-conversation with Johanna, laughing and talking animatedly. I reach for her hand under the table and bring it up to my lips, planting a kiss to the back of her palm. She trails off mid-sentence and looks over at me, shooting me that smile she reserves just for me. 

When we’re just about done with the desserts, Finn and Annie rise to their feet together and grabbing the attention of the whole table.

They thank us all for coming, and they thank us for sharing this experience with them.

“We uh...we realize this might seem a bit sudden or that some of you might think us a little young to being taking this step,” Finnick says, his eyes darting over to his parents. “But the truth is I found something good, which isn’t something I’ve always had in my life. I found someone who makes me happy and who I love, someone who I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

As he says this, he slips an arm around Annie’s waist and looks down at her. His face is full of passion, intense and serious. Annie looks back at him trying to hold back tears.

“And I haven’t been sure of many things in my life, but I’m sure about this. I’m sure about you.” He almost whispers the last words to Annie who touches his face with her hand and shares a brief kiss.

She pulls away, and I watch as she tries to compose herself. She takes a deep breath and shakes off the tears that were starting to gather in her eyes. 

“I just want to say we love you all, and you mean so much to Finn and I. Thank you for being here,” she smiles at the table. “I also want to thank one person specifically, one person who has helped both of us so much and without who we might not be here today.”

She looks right at me.

“Peeta...you helped me more than you’ll ever know. You helped me let go and move forward. You helped me heal and open myself up to the possibility of love. Thank you.”

I’m biting the inside of my cheek hard, commanding myself to keep it together.

“Thank you man,” Finnick adds. “Thank you for helping Annie. Thank you for helping me wrap my head around the idea of a relationship and actual feelings. Thank you for listening to me freak out over what to wear and what to say and what to do when she and I first started dating. I would have been hopeless without you.”

“You were still bit of a lost cause,” Annie teases him, and the whole table laughs.

Everyone raises their glasses, and we toast the happy couple.

I get up from the table immediately afterwards to give both of them a hug, congratulating them and telling them how happy I am for them both.

The dessert plates are just being cleared away when Katniss comes up to me from behind, snaking her arms around my waist.

“Can we get out of here? We have to be up earlier tomorrow for the wedding stuff,” she whispers in my ear.

I nod my head in agreement, and we say our goodbyes.

Once we’re out of the restaurant though, she practically starts dragging me to the car.

“What’s the rush?” I tease her.

She pushes me up against the side of my car and wraps her arms around my neck, playing with the ends of my hair.

“I just....I just loved that speech Finn and Annie gave about you. It reminded me of what an amazing and wonderful and caring man you are.”

She leans in to kiss me, her tongue reaching out to trace my lips, making little sounds of pleasure.

“I also want to fuck you in the car right now because I can’t wait until we get home,” she breathes out when we break away.

I laugh at her crass sentiment after saying something so earnest and meaningful, tightening my hands around her waist.

“I could make that happen,” I murmur in agreement, leaning in to kiss her again. The passion ignites between us. She presses into me as her tongue starts to explore my mouth. I have just enough presence of mind to grab my keys and open the car door.

We slide into the backseat together, and everything turns into a heated frenzy, hands grasping at clothes, lips searching out lips in the few moments when we break away for air.

It turns out I was right, and her dark green dress is easy to peel away from her body. When we’re finally naked and laying across the backseat, her small warm body on top of mine, I let my hands travel down to her behind, squeezing gently.

“Mmm...” she moans, rubbing herself against me.

“God damn you’re so wet...”

“I’ve been wet since they served the appetizers,” she laughs breathlessly.

“Let me eat you out.”

She pulls away, and her eyes are wide and bright. I can tell she really likes the idea. She starts to sit up, and I scoot down a bit along the length of the backseat, bending my knees to get comfortable.

“I want you riding my face,” I tell her, pulling her up towards my head as she bends her knees on either side of me. 

I pull her until her center is right over my mouth, and she looks down at me and whimpers.

“Peeta...” she says, running her hands through my hairs, mouth hanging open.

I run my tongue up and down her folds, lapping up her wetness as she slowly starts rocking her hips above me. I grab onto her hips as my tongue starts to fuck her, pushing inside her repeatedly.

She cries out and tugs on my hair just hard enough, and I feel my cock twitch in response.

“Oh my god,” she moans, her hips rocking in a circle now.

I flick my tongue at her clit and then take it between my teeth before starting to suck it into my mouth. 

“Fuck!” she screams, her hands going to the closest headrest as she tries to hold on. She’s starting to lose her composure though, because I can feel her hips starting to buck a little more wildly, pushing into my face involuntarily.

I’m hard as a rock as she rides my mouth. I suck harder on her clit as she starts to tense up. I reach up and grab her breasts, squeezing and kneading the perfect mounds when she releases a piercing scream as she comes.

She rides out her orgasm, and I keep licking her gently until she falls forward and off of my face. I sit up and turn back to her. I pull her into my lap, her back flush with my chest.

I just hold her in my arms, kissing her neck and behind her ears as she slowly comes back down to earth. I don’t give her too much time to recover though before I reach down and grab my cock, positioning myself at her entrance.

I slide into her and she mewls, reaching back to cup the side of my face.

I plant my feet firmly on the floor of the back seat and she braces her feet against the back of the front seats. I start pushing into her, one hand finding her clit and the other pulling at her nipples.

“Peeta...” she whines, and I know it won’t take long to get her there again.

“Give me another one,” I growl into her ear, my fingers beginning their assault on her clit as I pump in and out of her firmly. 

“Oh my god, fuck,” she murmurs, and I hear that desperate tone in her voice. That desperate tone that means that she’s almost overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“Fuck Katniss, I love your pussy, it’s so fucking perfect,” I’m in a frenzy myself now, punishing her clit as I start to pound into her harder.

She tenses and then spasms in my arms, another orgasm surging through her. She screams, a cathartic sound that tells me this one was fast and intense and she’s barely holding on at this point. I slow my pace as she squeezes around me and slumps over in my arms

“You’re soaking,” I murmur, scooting up a little to the edge of the seat as she falls over the center console, resting her head on it. “And I’m not done fucking you yet.”

She moans, and I grab onto her hips and thrust into her, not really taking care to be gentle or careful but I can’t help it. I thrust into her, so hard and fast her entire body is jerking forward, sliding over the center console.

I reach out and tug on her hair at the same moment I feel my balls start to tighten. She cries out, and her hand snakes between her legs to where we’re joined, rubbing her clit. I pull on her long dark hair again and explode inside her, feeling her tighten around me one last time, amazingly enough.

We are breathless and quiet for a long time. 

Finally I come back to earth before she does. I pull out of her and then lean back against the seat and pull her into my lap, cradling her in my arms. She buries her head in my neck, and I know she’s hovering on the edge of sleep.

“I’ve never...that was...I can’t believe...” she murmurs these words against my skin, and I can’t help but chuckle.

“I know...” I agree quietly. We don’t have to say anything, we’re both thinking the same thing. We’ve been together almost 6 months now and the passion hasn’t come close to fading. We’re still learning about each other’s bodies and the way we fit together. And every time we go at it like this, frenzied and intense and mind-blowing, we’re both still amazed at how good it can be.

She laughs and kisses the hollow of my throat, her hand flat against my chest, my heart beating steadily beneath her touch. I kiss her forehead and tell her I love her and I know she is about to nod off, but the words she whispers against my skin stay with me for a long time after.

“My mind, my body, my soul. They’re yours. Always.”

X

Finnick’s dad walks Annie down the aisle.

The ceremony goes by in the blink of an eye.

I feel myself grinning like an idiot watching Finn and Annie exchange vows. They’re smiling at each other with looks so full of love it’s hard not to feel their happiness like it’s my own.

My eyes go past Annie’s shoulder from where I stand, lined up beside Finnick and I see Katniss. 

She has tears in her eyes.

I watch her carefully, suddenly unable to look away. She looks gorgeous, hair and make-up done, holding a bouquet of flowers, wearing a floor-length purple gown. But the longer I look at her the more it seems to me that something is off. 

She doesn’t look particularly happy, and I start to question if her tears are about something more. Her mouth is set in a straight line, and she looks almost a little dazed. 

Finally, she catches me looking and offers me a weak smile.

There is not much of an opportunity to talk with her though because as the ceremony finishes up, we move on to take pictures for about half an hour. Then we’re moving into the dining hall and taking our seats at the head table as Finnick and Annie are introduced for the first time as man and wife. 

People are up and about now, talking with the newlyweds and getting drinks from the bar. 

I make my way through the small crowd, greeting those I know and making small talk. I lose track of Katniss after a little while though and I start to get worried. I discreetly step out of the dining hall just as the opening chords for Finn and Annie’s first dance together start to play. 

I walk down a short hallway and then find myself outside on a wrap-around patio with stairs leading down to a garden. I can still hear the music playing softly in the background. 

Katniss is sitting on a stone bench at the edge of the garden near some flowers. She is facing away from me so I hesitate for a moment and just watch her. The wind is blowing hair in her face, and she is gazing out in the distance, a blank look on her face.

I approach her slowly, coming to a stop when I’m a few feet away.

She turns when she hears me and offers me another weak smile.

“Can I join you?” I ask quietly.

She nods her head and makes room for me on the small bench. I sit down next to her and just stare out in the direction she’s looking, not sure what to say yet.

Luckily, she’s the first one to talk.

“It hit me when I saw Annie walking down the aisle with Finn’s dad.”

I glance at her curiously, wondering what she means, wondering if she’s going to continue.

“I....my dad won’t be there when we get married,” she says in a sort of detached, hollow voice. She talks about us getting married like it’s an inevitable fact. I almost smile. She’s right.

“And then I realized your dad won’t even be there...” she says, her voice cracking at the end. She covers her mouth with her hand, choking back a sob.

I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her towards me.

“Hey...it’s okay,” I try and assure her. I kiss the top of her head and rub my hand up and down her bare arm.

She’s crying quietly, burying her face against my chest as he body shakes silently with her tears.

“We’re a couple of orphans,” she says when she pulls back with a pained laugh, still fighting off tears.

I chuckle and wipe the wetness from her cheek. “Yeah I guess we are,” I admit.

“I’m sorry,” she takes a deep breath and shakes her head as if to clear it. “You probably think I’m horrible. I should just be happy for Finnick and Annie today, not be wallowing in my own self pity.”

“I don’t think you’re horrible,” I tell her truthfully. “I think what you’re feeling is completely normal.”

“It’s just seeing Annie in her wedding dress and how happy she was when we were all getting ready I couldn’t help but start to imagine what it would be like when it was our turn.” She’s holding my hands in hers now, cradling them in her lap. 

“It just hurts because I know my dad would have loved you. He would have been so happy to see me with someone as amazing as you.” A fresh wave of tears hit her, and she throws her arms around my neck and buries her face against my shoulder.

I hold her against me and let her cry again for as long as she needs. 

“Hey,” I whisper gently when she has finally calmed down. I pull away just a fraction to look in her eyes. “I think you’re forgetting a key part of this wedding day in our future.”

She looks at me quizzically and waits for me to continue.

“Our parents might not be there for it, but guess what?”

I grin at her, cupping her face in my hands and bringing her lips to mine in a soft kiss.

“We’ll be starting the rest of our lives together,” I whisper against her mouth when we break away. “And I’d rather focus on that. I’d rather focus on the fact I’ll be able to call you my wife, not our grief over the parents we’ve lost.”

She smiles back at me. She’s still crying, but I think these are good tears this time.

“I love you so much,” she murmurs, leaning into kiss me. “I would be lost without you, Peeta. You saved me.”

“We saved each other,” I tell her because it’s true. I can’t fathom what my world would be if she hadn’t come into it and changed everything.

She stands up and offers me her hand. I grab it and when I stand to join her I put my arm around her shoulders.

“Let’s get back to the party,” she says, leaning into me. “We’ve got to get some ideas for our big day.”

We walk back towards patio and the steps that lead up to the dining hall. Before we go inside though I stop and turn her towards me, keeping her in my arms.

“You remember what I said that day we met, that first grief counseling session you came to?”

She grins back at me and repeats the words. “No matter how bad our losses, it can be good again.”

“It will always be good again for us,” I tell her, pulling her into my arms again. “No matter what happens. No matter what we go through. We’ll go through it together. I promise.”

And when we kiss it’s like we’re sealing that promise between us forever.


	19. Chapter 19

Epilogue

3 years later

I can't stop crying. I can't stop second-guessing myself. Was this the right decision? It's only two years, but it's miles away from where I want to be.

Peeta says it will be okay. He'll come visit as often as he can. And we'll talk every night on the phone. And there's always video chat he added with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows that made me laugh.

I miss him so much.

He reminded me constantly when I was trying to make my decision that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and that my education was important and that it would open up doors for me in the future. He also pointed out that with Prim starting college this fall I didn't have anything holding me back. Not even him, he insisted, because he would always be with me, no matter how far apart we would be.

After a few years at community college where I excelled more than I ever would have expected, I looked into transferring to a state school or university. And my grades were good enough that not only did I get into the top school I applied for, but I got a full scholarship as well. I still have my suspicions that the letter of recommendation Haymitch—Prim's former social worker who helped me get full custody of her—wrote for my application probably had something to do with that. He swears he didn't write a sob story about me losing both my parents and being forced to raise my baby sister, but I'm sure he slipped it in there somewhere.

So after a lot of consideration and some hesitation I decided to pack up and move 3 hours away from home. Away from Peeta. I'll be here for two years while I get my Bachelor's degree and while I know that's not very long in the grand scheme of things, every day that passes when I don't get to see Peeta is painful.

It is a chilly autumn afternoon in mid-October and I haven't seen Peeta for almost eight weeks now. I'm feeling miserably sorry for myself. I have midterms coming up. I have a headache. I'm lonely. I miss my sister. I miss my boyfriend. Everything sucks.

When I get back to my apartment I shut myself in my room and dial Peeta.

"Hey beautiful, I was just thinking about you."

The happiness with which he answers his phone, the way that just his voice makes me feel better, and imagining his smiling face as he moves around the bakery that he now runs full time all becomes a little too much to process in the moment. I dissolve into tears immediately and cover my face, embarrassed at my weakness and feeling even worse when he starts to sound close to panic, asking if I'm okay or if I'm hurt.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I hastily assure him as his voice starts to rise to near hysteria, demanding to know what's wrong and if he should call someone to come help me.

"What's wrong Katniss?"

I take a deep breath to get a hold of my emotions. "I just...I miss you so much." My bottom lip is quivering as I struggle not to dissolve into a mess of tears all over again.

"Oh Katniss," he sighs heavily. "I miss you too. So much. More than you can even imagine."

I close my eyes and picture our room back home. I picture his book laying on the nightstand. I imagine his clothes hanging over his desk chair, something he does rather than putting them away properly in his closet or drawers. I think about the collage of pictures I put up on the wall, snapshots of him and I together over the course of the almost four years we've been together. I try and remember the smell of his pillow and how good it feels to slip into that bed with the scent of him all around me. 

"God last night..." he laughs a little huskily, "I jerked off remembering when we fucked on the beach last year during our vacation."

I close my eyes and sigh in pleasure at the memory. It was our first trip away together and we went all out; an exclusive resort with private beaches in the tropics.

I can still feel his hips pounding me into the sand, flat on my back on our towel. He lowered his wet bathing suit just enough to free his cock and pushed my bikini bottoms to the side before sliding into me. His solid weight above me, the water dripping off his skin, the sound of the waves, and the sun overhead; every thing about that memory makes me shiver with pleasure.

"Peeta..." I whine helplessly, "I miss the feel of you inside me."

He agrees with a tortured groan. This is the longest we've ever gone since we became a couple without having sex and I don't know how much longer I can take it. Phone sex just can't compete with the real thing.

"I miss being inside you." His voice is low and hoarse and so sexy I have to clench my thighs together in response.

I bite my bottom lip and feel my eyelids grow heavy with lust. I'm practically panting when I ask him what he's doing right now.

He chuckles and the sound brings a smile to my face. "We can't do this right now I'm still at the bakery." It's amazing how well he can read my mind over the phone. He must hear me whimper in protest though because he continues. "Look, this is what I want you to do: I want you to take a bath, get something to eat, maybe get some homework done, and then later when I get home I'm going to video chat you and take care of you properly."

I grin. "Promise?"

"I don't make promises I can't keep."

I laugh, somehow feeling ten times better than when I first called him.

"That's what I want to hear," he says in response to my laughter.

"I love you," I whisper, my heart beating a loud, thumping rhythm, trying to reach him across the miles that separate us.

"Love you more," he replies.

When we hang up I go and do exactly what he asked me to do. I take a long bath. I even light candles and turn on some relaxing music. I shave my legs. I eat a good dinner and I even manage to read my textbook for about an hour before my phone rings again.

I grin at the sight of my boyfriend’s beautiful face popping up on the screen.

“Hi,” I answer with a smile, closing my book and getting up off my bed to lock and shut my door. 

“What are you wearing?” Peeta asks, completely bypassing any pleasantries.

I laugh, lying back down on my bed. “Um right now? Your college t-shirt and my underwear. That’s it.”

He groans, making me laugh again. “Fuck that’s a good image. I love the thought of you wearing my clothes when you’re so far away.” 

“It makes me feel like you’re close. Like you’re holding me.”

“Katniss, I wish I could touch you right now.” 

The raw desire I hear in his voice makes my lower belly clench. I can already feel myself getting wet for him. Not surprisingly Peeta has had no problem using his words to turn me on and get me off during this long distance period of our relationship.

“I thought we were going to video chat,” I say, “I want to see your face.”

“Bad news, my internet isn’t working,” Peeta explains.

“That sucks,” I pout. I was really looking forward to seeing his face and his body and definitely his cock. “Can you text me a picture of your dick? I could probably get off just from looking at it.”

He laughs. “Oh so that’s all I’m good for then? Give you a picture of the goods and then you can just hang up right now.”

“Hmm I guess you could stay on the line for a little bit,” I tease, biting my bottom lip.

“Oh yeah? So I can tell you how much I love you? How I would be sucking on your tits and fucking your brains out right now if I was there?”

I moan in response. “Peeta….”

“Take off your shirt,” he commands me. 

I don’t even hesitate. I pull the shirt off me, holding the phone away for just a moment until I’m only in my underwear, lying back on my bed.

“Are you wet?” 

“So wet,” I breathe, rubbing two fingers lightly on my clit over my underwear.

“I miss you sucking my cock,” he says and I shiver at the thought of his hard warmth in my mouth. I miss it too. So much.

“Peeta— ”

I’m cut off by the sound of persistent knocking at my apartment door. I frown in confusion. Who the hell could that be? My roommate has class tonight and we never have any visitors.

Peeta notices I’ve gone quiet. “What is it?”

“Ugh someone is at my door.”

“Just ignore them, they’ll go away.”

“Yah you’re right,” I agree. “Now where were we?”

The knocking comes again, louder and longer. I throw my head back in aggravation. This asshole at my door is completely ruining the mood.

“I think I was telling you how much I miss you getting down on your knees for me,” Peeta says and my belly floods with warmth.

More knocking on the door.

“Fuck!” I get up out of bed and pull on my robe. “Sorry, let me just get rid of whoever is at my door, they’re not going away.”

“You’re going to answer the door half-naked?” He exclaims in concern.

“Well, yeah I need to get rid of them. I can’t have them knocking on my door while we’re trying to have phone sex,” I explain, making my way out of my room and across the living room to the front door.

“Katniss, you’re home alone. Maybe you shouldn’t be answering the door by yourself when you’re half-dressed.”

“It’s fine…” I assure him as I unlock the door and swing it open.

“Because you know, if you answer the door half-naked some poor guy might be standing there with all sorts of dirty ideas about what he wants to do to you.”

I gape at the sight of Peeta standing in front of me, his phone still pressed to his ear with a cocky smirk on his face. 

“Oh my god!” I slap a hand over my mouth, torn between breaking down in tears at the sight of him and screaming for joy.

“Surprise,” he says, slipping his phone into this pocket.

I drop my phone on the floor and launch myself at him. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” I mumble incoherently, my head tucked into the curve of his neck.

“Hello to you too.” He steps inside my apartment and closes the door behind him with his foot. His hands cup my behind as he walks across the living room towards my room.

I pull back and kiss him, holding his face between my hands. He tastes so good. I can’t believe I went so long without his mouth on mine. “I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you so much. Oh my god, I love you.” I talk nonsense through our kisses and he laughs against my lips.

He deposits me on the edge of my bed and then starts to tug off his jeans. My robe has fallen open and I immediately tug off my panties. Clearly, we are not going to mess around and drag this out. I actually whimper at the sight of his cock when it springs free. He is so hard and ready for me. I feel like I’m going to lose my mind if he doesn’t fuck me right now.

He leans over me and grabs my wrists with his hands. He pins me to the bed and uses his thighs to spread me open. “I can’t wait any longer,” he breathes into my ear. 

When he slides into me to the root we simultaneously groan in shared ecstasy. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Peeta!” I feel like my eyes roll to the back of my head. As much as I have wanted and fantasized about this moment for the past several weeks when we were apart, I find that I am more than happy to let him take complete control. We don’t fuck. He fucks me into oblivion. I am not an active participant in this and I am perfectly okay with that. I am there for him to drive into over and over again until we both shatter with the force of a bomb going off.

When I can think clearly again I roll over on to the bed and kiss him. “But besides that how are you?”

He laughs and the sound fills me with warmth. God I missed that. I’ve missed everything about him. “So much better now that I’m here with you,” he replies with a cheeky smile.

“Yeah, how did you pull that one off?”

“Well, I must have been able to read your mind and realized that you were going to need me today because I was planning on this little surprise trip before you even called me.”

“Really?”

“Yup, I had actually just left when you called me.”

“Well, I’m so glad you’re here. I was so down earlier. I was so sad and feeling sorry for myself and second-guessing even being here in the first place.” I admit the last part quietly, not meeting his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assures me, reaching out to cradle my face. “We’re going to get through this together. And yeah it’s going to be rough at times, but if we always have that kind of sex to look forward to when we’re reunited?” He grins widely, a spark in his eyes. “I sure as hell can make some sacrifices for the benefit of your higher education.”

I laugh and curl into his side, running my hand over his chest. I don’t think I have ever been more grateful for Peeta’s positive attitude and optimistic outlook on things. I know that right now I need that from him most of all if I want to get through these next two years. 

I grab his hand and kiss his palm, closing my eyes contently. “You’re right. We’ll get through this. Together.”

X

5 years later

Peeta is acting weird.

And it's starting to get on my last nerve. He's been like this for almost two weeks now and I can't stand it. It worries me. He's acting different. He's not himself. He's quiet and distant and sometimes he can barely look me in the eyes.

It makes me want to cry.

In the dark, back corner of my mind I wonder briefly if he's going to break up with me. We've been together almost six years now and while I thought things were going great, obviously something is wrong. And the worst part is that for the life of me I can't figure out what it could possibly be.

Maybe he's just tired of me. Maybe he's not in love with me anymore. Maybe we just got too comfortable with each other and fell into a rut. I don't know.

It couldn't possibly be our sex life, I think to myself stubbornly. Six years together and we still fuck with a passion and intensity that leaves both of us dazed and trembling when we finish. In fact, the only times he has seemed to be himself these past two weeks is when we are making love, whispering into my ear how much he wants me and how much he loves me.

Suddenly the thought of actually losing him, of him telling me that things are over, fills me with panic. I won't accept that. I won't let him give up on us. I refuse to.

God it doesn't even make sense! We've talked about getting married and having kids together before. Three weeks ago we were as happy and in love as we ever were, and now I'm doubting our entire future.

The sound of his keys opening the front door of our apartment breaks me from my thoughts. He shoots me a tired smile as he walks in and puts his things down. Immediately I go to him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling his mouth down to meet mine.

I kiss him deeply and hungrily, feeling that spark between us that has never come close to extinguishing. I sigh in contentment when he responds enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me more firmly against him.

"Well, hello to you too," he mumbles against my lips when we break apart for air. "What was that for?"

"Do I need a reason to kiss the love of my life hello?"

A warm, loving smile spreads across his face and it soothes all my earlier worries immediately. He looks like I just told him he won a million dollars. I don't know what has gotten into him lately, but I refuse to accept that it has anything to do with him not loving me as much as he always has.

"Not at all," he assures me, patting my behind affectionately as we break apart. "I'm going to hop in the shower."

While he showers I make dinner and think about how best to approach this. It's not like Peeta is closed off or hard to talk to but I think whatever it is that is bugging him is going to be a little harder to get out of him than usual. I decide to wait until later tonight in bed. He'll probably be much more willing to share after a couple of orgasms. 

When he reappears from the bathroom he's wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers, towel drying his damp hair as he moves towards the kitchen for food.

I'm checking my e-mail as he comes to sit beside me on the couch with his dinner. "How was your day?" he asks between bites.

"Better now that you're home," I reply, shooting him a sweet smile. And I mean it too; now that he's here beside me I feel less worried and anxious than I did earlier. Maybe nothing is wrong. Maybe it's all in my head.

One corner of his mouth tilts up in a crooked smile and he grabs my hand and places a kiss to the back of it, somehow giving me butterflies like he did when we first started dating.

But the moment soon vanishes when I see an e-mail that catches my eye and reminds me of something.

"Oh, I wanted to tell you, I was hoping we could drive up to see Prim next weekend at school. It's her fall break so she has a long weekend but she can't come home because she has some sorority thing she has to attend."

My little sister is a junior in college now and thankfully her school is only a two-hour drive away. I don't like not seeing her every day, but I'm so proud of her and how grown up she is. I still remember her as the little 14-year-old girl who told me it would be okay when she had to go live with our mother's second cousin, Effie Trinkett, before I was named her legal guardian.

"What? No!" Peeta protests this idea with such vehemence it actually startles me. I look back at him in total confusion, wondering what in the world has gotten into him.

I can't form words for the longest moment, staring at him like he's grown an extra head. Finally, I manage, "Um...why not?"

He flushes and looks away from me. "Next weekend is just...not a good weekend for me."

I bristle at the statement, hurt that he has more important things to do than come with me to see Prim. "Fine," I mumble, "I'll go by myself." 

"No!" he protests again, just as emphatically.

“Excuse me?” I gape at him, trying to figure out if he really just told me I couldn’t go see Prim.

“I just…” he is flushed and clearly upset and struggling for words, which is so unlike Peeta. “I mean…I was hoping we could just spend some time together next weekend. And Prim will be home next month for Thanksgiving anyways, right?”

“That’s not the point, I want to see her before that! I haven’t seen her since she left for school almost two months ago.” The words come out harsh and biting but I can’t help it because I’m pissed off now. I don’t understand what he has against the idea of seeing Prim and I don’t understand why he has been acting so strange lately.

"Come on Katniss, please. I was going to plan a nice weekend together."

"Peeta we can do that any other time, what's the big deal?"

"I just want to spend next weekend together, can you just do this one thing for me?" His words are angry and curt and I feel something inside me go cold. This is not my Peeta, this is someone who is hiding something from me and it makes me sick.

"No, I'm going to see my sister," I say with an air of finality. 

“So you don’t want to spend time with me?” He challenges. “I’m just not that important to you?”

“Oh my god, do you hear yourself?” I get up off the couch and start pacing around the room. “You’re being ridiculous. All I said is I want to go see Prim and you’re acting like I’m being totally unreasonable. What has gotten into you lately? You've been acting like you're hiding something from me for a while now.”

He almost flinches, like he hadn’t expected or realized that I’ve caught on to his strange behavior recently. I see the exact moment when he tries to shut down and hide his emotions from me and it makes my stomach drop. And of course my mind instantly starts imagining the worse. Because now I’m afraid that all those horrible scenarios I’ve been picturing lately are true—that he is going to break things off with me, tell me it’s over.

“What is it?” I start to cry and seeing the pain on his face does nothing to ease my worries. “Please just tell me,” I beg. “I can’t keep living like this, wondering why you’re so off, thinking it has something to do with me, something I’ve done wrong. I can’t keep waiting for things to blow up. I’m so afraid of what it could be, please Peeta, just tell me.”

“Katniss…” he doesn’t say anything else, he just sighs and looks away from me. And it’s this blatant refusal to put me out of my misery and come clean that undoes me.

I burst into tears and run straight for our room, slamming the door shut behind me. 

I collapse on our bed as sobs rack my body and I've cried myself to sleep.

*...*

I wake sometime later to the feel of a large, warm hand pushing the hair away from my face.

"Katniss..."

My eyes open slowly to find Peeta kneeling on the floor by my bedside. He's looking at me with such love and adoration it almost makes me start to cry again. He uses his thumbs to brush away the tears that have long since dried on my cheek.

"I really messed this up, didn't I?" He gives me a weak, regretful smile and shakes his head.

And then he reaches into his pocket, pulls something out and places it in front of me.

My breath catches. It's a small, square, velvet-covered jewelry box.

"Peeta..." my voice wavers. My heart is beating so loud and so fast I can feel it everywhere.

"You're right," he says softly, "I can't keep a secret from you. You know me better than anyone. You know everything about me."

I sit up in bed a little more, my eyes darting between him and the jewelry box.

"I made a decision a few weeks ago that I was ready—that I felt we were ready—to take the next step, and I haven't doubted that decision since." He sighs and reaches for my hand just to hold it, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of my palm. "But suddenly I had this huge, monumental, life-altering secret I had to somehow keep from you, all while trying to act completely normal and plan out the best way to ask you at the same time."

He opens the box and there it is. A diamond ring that I don't even really see, a ring whose details I don't even notice. I don't notice the band or the cut of the diamond or how big it is because all I can think about is what it represents. My eyes start to shimmer with tears.

"Do you know how absolutely nerve-wracking it is to realize you're going to ask the woman you love to marry you? It doesn't even matter if you already know what her answer is going to be, it's fucking scary."

A laugh bursts from my lips and I realize the tears are already starting to flow.

"So then of course I drilled it into my head that it had to be perfect and special and the most romantic thing that anyone has ever done ever, because well it's you...and you deserve that and more." He smiles up at me, reaching out to wipe my tears away. "I was going to surprise you with a trip up to the country next weekend, spend the weekend at a bed and breakfast, make love all night and propose in the morning."

I close my eyes and shake my head, a smile on my lips as everything starts to make sense now.

"God, I don't even know why I panicked just now," he laughs. "I already told Prim my plans. She probably would have helped me out and made up some excuse for me as to why you couldn't come see her next weekend."

We lock eyes. We're both smiling now. He reaches down for the ring and plucks it from the small box. And then he shifts on the floor so now he’s only kneeling on one knee.

"Peeta..." my voice trembles as I say his name, as if I'm pleading for him, calling out for him even though he's right here in front of me. I can feel my entire body shaking. Even though he just spent the last 5 minutes telling me what he plans to do, I still feel caught off guard.

He reaches for my left hand and then looks up at me, his face serious and intent. "Katniss...will you marry me?"

"Yes!" I cry the word. I gasp it like it's the only possible thing I am capable of saying at the moment, and it is. I am a crying mess of tears, smiling so wide it hurts my cheeks as he slides the ring on my finger.

He moves to get up so he can sit beside me on the bed and we throw our arms around each other. He tells me he loves me over and over again. When I pull back to kiss him it is gentle and achingly sweet. It feels like we are sealing the promise of our future together, of the rest of our lives bound to one another as husband and wife.

"I'm sorry," I finally manage between kisses when I can start to process things again. At this point he's already lying me back down on the bed, moving to hover over me as I welcome his weight between my legs and flush against my belly and chest.

"What are you sorry for?" He mumbles, his lips trailing a hot path along my jaw line and down my neck.

"I ruined your surprise. I freaked out."

His hand has reached out to cup the swell of my breasts through the thin t-shirt I'm wearing, sans bra. He is doing his best to leave a mark on me and I don't even care. He's licking and sucking and biting my sensitive flesh and I don't want him to stop. I want him to mark me as his because that is what I am, what I have always been, and what I always will be.

He laughs ruefully as I gasp and arch up into his touch when he starts to tweak my nipple. "You didn't ruin anything, Katniss. First off, it was my own damn fault I couldn't act more normal around you. And secondly, I'm so glad to have that off my chest. I hated keeping a secret from you."

He reaches down and pulls my shirt up till it reaches my collarbone, baring me to him completely. He leans down and takes my nipple in his mouth, licking, sucking, and biting until I am wet and throbbing for him.

"Besides," he adds, pulling away from my breast long enough to look up at me with a little smirk, "you just said you'd marry me. I'm the happiest man in the world right now. Nothing for you to be sorry about, believe me."

I laugh, tangling my hair in his blonde waves and pulling him down to my lips for a kiss. Our clothes fall away, and there is both an urgency and a slow deliberateness about the way we undress and touch each other. When he finally pushes inside me I wrap my legs around his waist and cling to him, marking his back and ass with my nails.

He raises up a little on his knees, using his arms to hold himself up as he pistons his hips against me faster and harder. I whimper as the pleasure builds and grows into a burning inferno.

"You are the only woman I have ever loved," Peeta grunts, "the only woman I will ever love. You're mine Katniss...forever."

And it's those words, that promise that I know without a doubt we will both honor for the rest of our lives that sends me off the edge exploding in his arms.

X

6 years later

I stare at myself in the mirror and adjust my tie. The suit I’m wearing is the nicest one I’ve ever worn but it’s a small detail really. I take a deep breath and wonder if there is ever going to be a moment today when I’m not smiling like an idiot.

I know your wedding is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, but this feels like more than that. This feels like I’m finally alive and awake, this feels like what I’ve been waiting for my whole life. It feels like everything before this moment was black and white, grey and dull. But the moment when Katniss came into my life colors started to bleed through. And today, when we commit ourselves to each other forever, the colors of my world will permanently sharpen and brighten. 

I’m broken from my sappy, over emotional reflection when there is a knock at the door of my dressing room. Finnick, my best man, enters without waiting for a response and looks me up and down, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“Not bad, Mellark, I got to tell you.”

I scoff at him and shake my head. “Don’t be weird. I don’t need you telling me how handsome I look.” I take a deep breath, for some reason nervous to ask this next question. “Did you do what I ask? How is she?”

When he doesn’t respond right away I feel my stomach drop. I immediately start imagining all the worst-case scenarios of Katniss freaking out and having second thoughts.

“What is it?” I demand, trying to keep my cool.

“She uh…” Finnick scratches his neck and looks down at his shoes, “…she’s crying.”

I swallow hard and try to ignore how those words make me to feel like I’ve just been punched in the gut. I feel the panic start, my heart thumping frantically in my chest as I try and compose myself.

“Why? What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

“It’s not about you,” Finnick tries to reassure me. “She just uh…I guess it was umm…” he trails off and shrugs, shooting me sheepish look. “I actually don’t know what it’s about, but Annie assured me it wasn’t her having cold feet or anything.” He sighs and comes over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I think you should go talk to her.”

“Now?” I gape at him, wondering if he’s serious. “I can’t go see her right now. We’re supposed to get married in 45 minutes!”

Finnick shakes his head at me like I’m annoying him. “I know you’re a romantic buddy, but untwist your panties and go talk to your future wife. She needs you right now. That not seeing each other before the ceremony crap doesn’t matter.”

I take a deep breath and realize he’s right. I have to go see if she’s okay. I can’t sit here for the next half hour twiddling my thumbs when she needs me to be there for her.

“Alright, lead the way.”

When we make our way to the room where Katniss has been getting ready I try not to start jumping to conclusions or make myself even more worried than I already am. 

When Finnick knocks Annie peaks her head out of the door and smiles when she catches sight of me over her husband’s shoulder. 

“Oh good, you came. Hold on, let me go talk to her and tell her you’re here.” She shuts the door before we can say anything and Finnick turns back around to shoot me a look. He pats me on the back, attempting to be reassuring. 

“Don’t worry dude. It’ll be fine.”

Before I can respond Annie opens the door again and steps out into the hall. She smiles and comes over to me. “Okay, she wants to talk to you, but she doesn’t want you to see her before the ceremony. So I put up a partition in front of the vanity mirror so you can sit on one side and she’ll be on the other and you can talk to her and still wait to actually see her in her dress until the ceremony starts.”

“Annie, what’s going on? Is she okay?”

She sighs and looks at me sadly. “Just go talk to her Peeta.”

I relent and step inside Katniss’ room, closing the door quietly behind me. In the corner there is a partition that looks like the kind of thing they used to use in the old days to get changed behind. Behind it I can see the top of a full-length mirror and since the partition is made from a sheer, translucent material I can see Katniss’ silhouette as well. Her shadow is highlighted from the sunlight pouring into the room. She’s sitting there in her dress and I can see the profile of her face and hair and long flowing dress. My heart seizes in my chest at the brief glimpse of the woman I love. 

I see her head turn. “Peeta?” she sniffles.

“Hey, it’s me.” I walk over to the partition and pull up a chair so I’m sitting on the other side. I scoot right up to the edge so I can literally feel her just a few feet away from me on the opposite side. “What’s wrong?”

She’s trying not to cry. Knowing that she is in pain and being powerless to help her or even reach out and touch her is driving me crazy. “Talk to me, Katniss.”

“It’s silly,” she laughs through her tears. The sound alleviates some of my deepest fears and I take my first easy breath since Finnick told me that she was upset. It can’t be anything too awful if she can laugh at herself about it.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about it,” I tell her gently.

She hesitates for a moment and I hear her take a deep breath. “You remember our first kiss?” 

I scoff at her. “You think I would ever forget it?” 

It was a few days after my dad died. After weeks of getting to know each other and growing closer, we had a falling out that happened to coincide with my dad’s health rapidly deteriorating. We made amends right before he passed and she was the first person I sought out after I pulled myself from the endless pit of grief. I walked over to her apartment in the pouring rain and she undressed me and told me to take a warm shower. Afterwards, as we sat on her couch and talked over cups of hot chocolate, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer to kiss her. 

I can picture her smiling at me, shaking her head. “You remember that night? You slept over in my bed and we didn’t do anything, but you held me and you told me…you said…”

“I love you.” I repeat the same three words I told her that night, lying in bed together.

“And you remember how I reacted?”

It takes me a second, searching my mind for my memories of that night. The ecstasy of finally kissing her and admitting how we felt to one another, the fact that she was finally mine, outweighs the other details.

“You…started crying,” I say at length, chuckling now as I recall the way she broke down in my arms when I said those three little words. When I asked her why she was crying she told me she didn’t know, but that she loved me too.

“I started crying because I was so happy I was terrified, Peeta.” It takes a second for that to sink in; for me to realize what’s she’s telling me now. I take another deep sigh of relief.

“So right now…they’re happy tears?” I ask her for confirmation. 

“Yeah…well, kind of…” she says a little shakily and I can tell there’s more so I stay silent and wait for her to continue. “I just…Peeta I’m scared. This is the best day of my life. Marrying you is all I’ve ever wanted and I know we’re going to spend the rest of our lives happy and loving each other.”

“So what’s wrong then?”

“What if it’s too good to be true? What if something horrible happens, Peeta? I just…I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s hard to believe that something this amazing and good is really happening.”

I close my eyes, forcing myself not to stand up and move around the partition so I can take her in my arms. While Katniss’ fears may seem silly and irrational to some, it makes perfect sense given the life she had up until we met. She lost both parents before her 20th birthday and then had her sister taken away as she fought to become her legal guardian. While she’s come a long way since that first day when she walked into the church basement of my grief counseling group, she still has some of the same fears and worries that have always plagued her. She’s not a naturally optimistic person, she hopes for the best, but fears the worst.

“Katniss…you deserve to be happy. It’s not too good to be true. I love you. You love me. We want to spend the rest of our lives together. Today, we’re going to stand up in front of our family and friends and commit ourselves to each other forever. I know it’s scary, but anything this good and anything worth having in life is going to be a little scary.”

I hear her take a deep, shuddering breath and her voice sounds more steady when she speaks next. “I know, you’re right.”

“I always am,” I tease her. 

She laughs and I know she’s feeling better. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” I respond without hesitation.

“Stand up and close your eyes.”

“Um okay…” I do what she says, waiting for her next command.

“You have to keep them closed okay. Promise?”

I grin. “I promise.”

I feel her near me and with a start I realize she’s stepped around the partition and is standing right in front of me. I squeeze my eyes shut as tightly as I can, resisting the impulse to open them and see how beautiful she is. 

Her arms come around my neck and instinctually I reach out and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her in closer to me. I feel the satiny, lace material of her dress and I know she looks more gorgeous than I can even imagine. I can’t wait to stand up there in a little bit as she walks down the aisle towards me. 

“I love you so much,” she breathes into my ear, causing a shiver down my neck. I cling to her tighter and press a kiss to her neck, my eyes still closed.

“Get behind that partition or else I’m going to kiss the bride before it’s official.”

She laughs and slowly pulls away from me.

After a moment, she speaks up again. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

I open them and immediately head for the door. “I have to go before I lose all willpower. I want to get this show on the road so I can finally get a good look at you.”

She laughs. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

I practically run back to my dressing room and it’s a good thing to because Effie—who somehow convinced us to let her run this whole thing—is starting to lose it, asking Finnick questions about where I am, and complaining about how the ceremony is about to get started any minute.

Before I know it I’m standing at the end of that aisle, anxiously awaiting my bride.

And when the music swells and everyone stands up and I see her for the first time I do exactly what she did when I told her I loved her for the first time.

I start to cry because I’m so fucking happy it’s overwhelming.

X

8 years later

I see Katniss at the end of the aisle.

I smile at the sight of my 7-month pregnant wife. She is beautiful. She is wearing a clingy dress that hugs the roundness of her belly. She has one hand braced on her lower back in support and the other moving animatedly in the air as she talks with someone.

The aisle of the grocery store is crowded since it's a Sunday evening and there are a handful of people separating us. I can't see who she is talking to, but I see the way she loving caresses the swell of our unborn child.

Every time I think about how she is carrying our child and that in a couple of months she will give birth to a baby we made from our love, my heart feels so full I think it might burst. She has always been gorgeous, but the curves from the extra weight she has gained during her pregnancy get me hard just looking at her. Her breasts are full, her hips are wide, and in total spirit of the cliché, she is positively glowing.

When I am halfway down the aisle I stop, frozen in place when I see the person she is talking to.

Gale.

We haven't seen him in years. For all the talk he and Katniss made about staying friends despite what happened between them, neither one of them made much of an effort to stay in touch.

I'll be honest and admit that fact doesn't bother me too much. Logically, I know he isn't a bad person despite everything. He was her friend for far longer than he was her boyfriend and he genuinely cares about her.

But that doesn't mean those old feelings of jealousy and anger don't suddenly flare up at the sight of him. I remember that night at the bar when I discovered for the first time that she had a boyfriend. The knowledge that this amazing, beautiful girl I had been falling for during our sessions together was already taken had hit me like a punch to the gut.

He had her and I didn't. And he didn't even seem to realize how lucky he was, which just pissed me off even more. I remember thinking, if Katniss was opening up to me so much, breaking down in my arms and sharing the pain of her past, she obviously wasn't getting the support she needed from him. I hated him.

He didn't deserve her. He has never deserved her.

I close my eyes as flashes of how things had eventually imploded between the three of us, comes to mind. I shake the memories off, not wanting to dwell in what has already been done.

By the time I reach her at the end of the aisle Gale is already gone. I come up from behind her as she gazes thoughtfully at the shelf of canned foods and wrap my arms around her. I cradle her belly in my hands and place a kiss to her neck.

"Hey you," she hums, resting her hands on top of mine.

Hmm...I know that tone of voice. She wants me right now.

Katniss has been particularly...needy…ever since her morning sickness passed. Knowing that the closer we get to her due date, the more likely it is that she'll be too uncomfortable for those kind of activities, I've been enjoying it while it lasts.

"You ready to get out of here?" I whisper in her ear.

She turns around and nods at me coyly, biting her bottom lip.

Shit I want her. I take her face in my hands right there in the middle of the aisle and kiss her, slow and gentle, a promise of what's to come.

She grins at me when we pull away, knowing full well that I will take care of her like she needs to be when we get home.

I grab our cart and start pushing it down the aisle. She wraps her arm around mine and trails along beside me.

"Oh God, guess who I just ran into?"

I make a brief noise of interest as she tells me about Gale and the fact that he was in town visiting family. Apparently he lives on the other side of the country now. I can't help the bitter, shallow part of me that is glad to hear that news.

I change the topic as we make our way towards the checkout stand, not particularly interested in hearing about her ex. I have to take a deep breath and tell myself to calm down as irrational feelings of anger start to rush over me. 

If Katniss notices how I’m suddenly quiet and distracted on the ride home she doesn’t say anything. She keeps up a constant stream of chatter until we are finally back home and unpacking the bags from the store. 

I haven’t really been listening to what she’s been saying, too preoccupied with my own thoughts and still hung up for some reason on seeing her talking to Gale earlier. When all the perishables are put away I grab her hand and pull her into the living room.

She stops mid-sentence and looks at me with a sly grin on her face. “You mean you haven’t been listening to me ramble on for the last half hour? Shocker.”

I laugh and tug her down to sit on my lap as I take a seat on the couch. “Sorry, I’ve been thinking about that look you gave me in the store aisle. I know you were having ideas.” I lean in to kiss her and she returns if full force, pushing me back against the couch and pressing her breasts into my chest.

“That’s true,” she breathes when we break away. Her hand moves down to my crotch, stroking me over my jeans. “I was having ideas about this.”

“Yeah?” I’m panting now, fully hard and needing to be inside her. 

She stands up with a sly grin and reaches under her dress to tug her panties to the floor. Simultaneously I undo the button and zipper on my jeans, lifting my hips to push my pants and boxers to the floor so they pool around my ankles. 

“Come here.” I tug on her hand to bring her back to my lap.

I pull her dress up around her waist and position her so her back is flat against my chest. Since her stomach got big and round this has become our new favorite position. It’s the closest I can get to her when we’re making love and the need to be close to her while she has been carrying our child drives me insane. 

I drop my hand down and rub her clit as I start pressing kisses along her neck. She whines breathlessly, begging for me to fuck her. I slide two fingers along her folds and find that she’s dripping wet. I take myself in my hand and tease her entrance a little bit before pushing inside her. 

She gasps my name and her head rolls back to rest on my shoulder. Her legs fall open and I use my thighs to spread them wide, lifting my feet up on the coffee table in front of us to use for leverage as I start thrusting my hips into her. I lose myself for a minute, roughly pumping away as I focus on nothing more than the feel of Katniss in my arms and my cock sliding into her wet heat. She goes soft, melting around me as I pound her into orgasm and then continue my assault between her legs. She cries out when I come inside her, my own orgasm pulling another one from her already sated body.

We just hold each other for a while, sweaty and breathless and completely satisfied after that round of lovemaking. 

“Feel better now, caveman?” She finally speaks up with a wryly tone, patting the arm that is holding her belly.

“After fucking you senseless? Definitely.” I know that’s not what she means though. I guess I wasn’t as good at hiding my irritation earlier as I thought.

“Talk to me,” she probes gently, running her hands over my arms so we’re both caressing our unborn child.

I take a deep breath. “I just…I hate remembering when you were with him. I know it’s ridiculous, but I feel sick when I think about when you weren’t mine.”

She takes my hand and presses a kiss to my palm.

I force myself to admit the next part, basically confirming the caveman comment she made earlier.

“I hate that he was your first.”

She is quiet for a long time but she doesn’t move away. I start to get anxious, wondering what she is thinking about.

She sighs. “Peeta we’re sitting here running our hands over my pregnant belly.” She lifts her left hand up and spreads her fingers. “That is your ring on my finger. And…” she leans forward and grabs a piece of mail off the coffee table. “This bill came addressed to Katniss Mellark.”

She turns around to look at me and there is no anger, annoyance, or coldness in her eyes. She’s soothing and loving as she pushes the hair off my face and leans in for a gentle kiss. “I’m having your child. I’m wearing your ring. I have your last name.”

I smile at the feel of so much tension melting off my shoulders. It’s amazing how well she knows me, and how she can make me feel so much better with just a few words. I think for what feels like the thousandth time since we got married how lucky I am to have her in my life and how much I love her. 

“I know, you’re right.”

She kisses me again. “I wish he hadn’t been my first either, I’m not going to lie. But it doesn’t matter. It’s so insignificant compared to what you and I have.”

I kiss her gently and then pick her up in my arms as I stand up off the couch. Even 7 months pregnant Katniss barely weighs anything. I walk her to our bedroom and deposit her on our bed. I whip off my shirt as she pulls her dress off and we cuddle up under the sheets completely naked. 

“I feel guilty sometimes when I think about it.” I break the silence and whisper the words into her hair as we hold each other. “If you hadn’t seen me that night at the bar—” I don’t even get to finish my thought.

“Stop,” she admonishes me firmly. “You are not responsible for my actions or the way I chose to deal with that. And you aren’t even at fault for what you did that night. I had pushed you away, I wasn’t ready to accept what we had and I was scared. And you were dealing with your dad on top of everything else.”

I exhale, realizing that what she is saying is true, even if I don’t want to accept it. I wish things hadn’t happened the way they did, but there is nothing I can do to change it now. And like she said, it’s pointless stressing over the past. She’s mine now. We have our whole future together.

“Why are you the one calming me down? You’re pregnant. You’re suppose to be irrational and hormonal and out of control with her emotions.”

She laughs and leans into kiss me. “Hey, I haven’t been too bad with my emotions and mood swings, have I?”

I pinch my lips together, trying to hold back a smirk. Last week she started crying because she forgot to pickup my dry cleaning. And no matter how much I consoled her and assured her it was no big deal she was distraught about it for a couple hours.

“You’ve been perfect,” I tell her, kissing her on the nose. She wrinkles her nose at me and narrows her eyes. 

“Liar.”

“Of course I am, you think I’d tell a pregnant woman she’s been acting crazy?” I tease her, loving how her eyes go wide and her mouth drops in indignation.

“You jerk!” She slaps me on my arm and I pull her against me, pressing kisses to her neck.

I laugh and revel in the fact that all those earlier worries have melted away and any thought of Gale seems like a distant memory. He doesn’t matter. He can’t touch this moment. All that matters is the two of us, and our future together.

“I love you,” I sigh against her skin, reaching down to caress her belly reverently. 

“I love you too and you’re going to be such a good daddy,” she tells me and my throat gets tight with emotion.

I pull back and kiss her and then move down her body until I can kiss and whisper to her belly, our nightly routine. I tell our unborn child how lucky they are to have Katniss as their mommy as she runs her hands through my hair.

Life is good.

It will keep getting better. 

X

12 years later

My baby sister is getting married. 

And my beautiful daughter is the flower girl.

I watch Peeta hold her in his arms, cuddling her, tickling her, whispering in her ear, being silly, distracting her until the ceremony starts.

The sound of her laughter, her childish squeals of delight, is the only sound I need to hear for the rest of my life. 

The sight of her in his arms slays me. It has since the moment she was born. My first truly clear memory after gazing down into her blue eyes when I held her for the first time is of the two of them together. He was crying and she was grabbing his finger with her fist.

I didn’t think it was possible to be happier or to be more in love than I was with Peeta the first few years of our marriage, but she changed everything. Our connection has magnified to something powerful and undeniable because of her. I run my hands over the growing bulge of my belly and think about how adding another little one to our family will only deepen that bond.

That’s not to say there aren’t still moments of fear and worry and doubt. I wonder if I’m raising her right, I fear something bad happening to her or him, and a number of other different things that I have to push out of my head to stop the flood of anxiety from coming on.

When I do that I remember the first real interaction I had with Peeta all those years ago when we first met in his grief-counseling group.

There must be something in my expression, a look on my face that tells him what complete and utter bullshit I find this to be, because he looks at me questioningly.

"Do you have anything to add, Katniss?"

Against my better judgment I find myself responding. "I'm just not a big believer in the whole 'the sun will come out tomorrow' attitude. Life is a lot more complicated than that." I tell him bluntly.

He looked at me for a long time, studying me, trying to figure me out. Eventually he just smiled and replied, “You’re right it is.”

Life will always have its highs and lows and I work hard each and every day to try and accept that without letting it drag me down. When I’m feeling weak or scared or prone to fear and depression, I think about Peeta’s unrelenting strength and belief in the beauty of life. I think about how he has always preached about the possibility of joy and love if you work hard enough to allow it into our life. 

He is the tie that anchors me, and the guide that leads me.

He is everything.

I am grateful.


End file.
